The Earth Remains Forever
by Adamantwrites
Summary: Adam and his wife of convenience, leave for Australia and a new life in the wilds of the outback. All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All OC's and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't know how quickly chapters will be posted and I may even regret having started this, especially now (when did this start?) that one has to run a gauntlet just to login. Nevertheless, I still - due to past harassment - will remove guest reviews. If you go through all the trouble to login and read and review, I hope you enjoy this story.**

**The Earth Remains Forever**

**_One_****generation passeth away, and ****_another_**** generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever. Ecclesiastes 1:4 KJV **

**One**

_…__If you decide to join me now that Mark Flynn has left and relinquished his half of the claim, don't bother to write to confirm. It takes almost two months for a letter to reach me and you would arrive before it does. Just show up at my door and you will be more than welcomed. But please send regrets. Otherwise, I may fear the ship has foundered in a storm and you have been lost at sea._

_One more thing, as odd as it may sound, be certain to acquire a wife – you will need one to cook and keep house and share your bed. There are no marriageable women here, only those who frequent the mining camps and make their living providing comfort to the laborers._

_I do hope to see you soon, Adam. This is a new frontier where, with hard work and diligence, a man can carve a good life for himself and his progeny._

_With great fondness, _

_Caleb_

Just like Caleb Morgan to toss in the remark about a wife at the end of his letter, Adam Cartwright thought as he refolded it along with the enclosed map, and tapped his finger on the papers as he considered whom he could ask to marry him. But would any woman in Virginia City be willing to upend her life for an endeavor halfway across the world with a man she barely knew? If he were already married, Adam considered, his wife would go with him - whether she wanted to or not. But there was no wife. In the two years since the war, when he felt his head would explode with memories of the war-time horrors he had seen, the diversion of a soft body and the fleeting physical pleasures involved in such an encounter was a stopgap to insanity. But Adam had no desire to marry one of the town's whores. As for the social aspects of squiring a woman around, there was a widow with two young boys but Adam wasn't "sparking" her, despite what others, including his own father and brothers, might think.

Australia seemed the logical next step. To Adam, life on the Ponderosa was without challenge and he had become restless, short of temper and bored by the routines of life:

_What has been is what will be,  
and what has been done is what will be done,  
and there is nothing new under the sun._

As one day flowed into another on the ranch, the passage from _Ecclesiastes _echoed through Adam's head many times a day, had almost become a mantra of sorts. And then the letter from Australia came, asking him to accept a partnership in a copper mine - and a silver mine. It seemed while prospecting a mine in another section of the property, a silver deposit – something which Caleb had yet to make public - was discovered. But, Caleb had written, he needed a trustworthy partner, someone who could bring not only knowledge but expertise in digging and shoring mines. And one who wanted adventure in an alien wilderness. And this, Adam felt, was the chance for something new "under the sun". He had quickly decided, but telling his father, well, that would be difficult as a whole week had passed since the letter's arrival and Adam had kept it to himself. Best to beard the lion in his den, so taking the letter with him, Adam strode downstairs.

~ 0 ~

"Adam, you can't be serious! You're willing to give up everything you know to go halfway around the world to God knows where! Australia! Just because someone you knew at school asked you?"

"Pa, I've made up my mind. You read Caleb's letter. This isn't some search for a will-o-the-wisp; there is not only a copper mine, but a silver mine. Australia is becoming the biggest exporter of coal, copper and many other resources that the world is clamoring for; everyday steamers with cargo-holds of coal head out from Newcastle and Brisbane. There're fortunes to be made, Pa, and ranching as we knew it is changing. No more cattle drives – it's just loading the beeves on cattle cars and shipping them wherever the market demands. Pretty soon, we'll have to slaughter the beeves and pack the meat in ice ourselves before shipping. And even timbering is changing – you can't deny that."

"Adam, the whole world is changing faster than I can keep up with it, and not just the cutting, but the planting. If the demand keeps up, the Ponderosa will be a big denuded desert. That's why I need you here. And since when was money your primary interest in anything? That's never been your motivation."

"All right, so it's not just the money. Pa, I need the challenge, the same as you did so many years ago. And granted, I understand that I'm needed here but I'm replaceable. You can hire someone who knows about the new techniques in timbering and milling. And Joe's picked up quite a bit - become quite savvy when it comes to contracts. And Hoss, well, he has an instinct when it comes to cattle and the land."

"So, your answer to my problem is for me to hire someone? How many people would I have to hire and fire before I found anyone as good as you? And as for Joseph, he has to divide his time between his place, his family, and ours, and I can't expect Hoss to have the knowledge you do about engineering. Adam, I'm an old man and I feel it. I need you, son."

Adam's voice dropped but his eyes remained on his father. "Pa, I have to do this – before I'm an old man too."

There was a pause – silence. "Just tell me this, Adam - why Australia? Why so far away? And what do you know about all this except what your friend – what's his name - Caleb Morgan – said in this letter?" Ben held the paper in his hand and waved it in the air like a banner. "And how well do you really know him? What if it's all a scam?"

"Then I'll find out when I get there."

"You'll find out when you get there; how can you be so cavalier?" Ben paced back and forth and then stopped. He looked at Adam's expression; he had seen it many times before. "That's it then. You've made up your mind."

"I have."

"I just can't…" Ben ran one hand through his hair. His eldest was leaving him and going further away than he had ever been. Two years ago, when Adam rode into the yard wearing his military boots and hat, the blue wool jacket and trousers worn and frayed at the edges of the cuffs, but still obviously an officer's uniform with the gold insignias on the shoulders, Ben had felt such profound relief, it practically knocked him to his knees. And now, his beloved son was leaving again.

"Pa, I think Australia is for me what the west was for you. You left everything you knew for a dream and I want to follow mine. Let me. Let me go without feeling guilty about leaving."

"Adam, I just can't…" Ben dropped in his chair. He was weary, felt emotionally wrung-out. "I suppose I have to accept it." Ben looked at the letter again, scanning it. There had to be something; he wasn't giving up so easily. "What about this part? A wife? What about that?"

Adam chuckled. "It's only a suggestion, Pa. But I have someone in mind. I haven't asked her yet but…"

"Who?"

"Sigrid Eklund." Adam waited for what would come.

"Sigrid Eklund! Adam, she was all of…what – sixteen, seventeen, when you enlisted? And since you've been back, you two have barely exchanged five words. Why would you consider her?"

"First, I've spoken to her many times since I've been back. And second, because I think she might marry me."

Ben was baffled and sat staring at Adam. "Why would she…" Then understanding dawned. "Because of her situation."

"Yes. I don't know if men are lining up to marry her or not, but it seems that appropriate suitors, at least appropriate in Alvar's mind, are lacking; I don't think the story about…well, I don't think it'll ever die since gossips still bring it up. Besides, Alvar never lets her out of the goddamn house except to go to church or shopping. She just stays home, cooking and cleaning for him while he preaches to her from the Bible. He probably constantly reminds her about sin and damnation, using the Bible like a cudgel to keep her a servant. Wouldn't surprise me if he's the one who keeps the story alive; it's almost as if he wants to punish her for what happened to her mother."

"I think you're too harsh and misjudge him. He could have given her up and no one would have blamed him, especially with her mother turning like that. Besides, religion is important to him – always has been and it carried him through the rough times. And you have no idea what goes on in their home. You've been listening to gossips. But if you're set on asking Sigrid, then I suppose there's nothing I can say to dissuade you. But you haven't yet asked her and she may not marry you – and to be perfectly honest, I don't know why she would. She doesn't know you well – you're practically a total stranger to her and almost fifteen years older. And to expect any woman – any woman - to just pick up and go halfway around the world with a man she doesn't know, to be his wife and all that entails – well, Adam, I just don't see it happening.

"And personally, since you want to marry quickly, I think you should look elsewhere for a wife, someone who's not … inexperienced, someone who can take care of you should something happen. I mean, Sigrid Eklund is young and has led a sheltered life. I know that at her age most women are married and mothers but the fact that she isn't, speaks for itself. Why, she's had no experience with men. Now does that sound like a girl who would marry you or even one you'd want to marry? Think about that. And I know there aren't many eligible women hereabouts but maybe an older woman, a widow with children … like Mary Dawson. You've squired her about plenty of times and she's a lovely woman – seems to have a genuine fondness for you as well and I know you like her – you've said so. And she has three children – well-behaved children - and you like her children. That's the type of woman you should marry."

Adam dismissively shook of his head. "Pack up three children and take them aboard a ship for over a month at sea? No. And since I don't know what I'll find once I get to Australia, it wouldn't be just. I don't think so, Pa."

"Over a month?" Ben's heart dropped. He had been to sea and knew many ships never reached port.

"It's over 7,000 miles from San Francisco." Adam's voice picked up, his eagerness obvious and he moved to the edge of the seat. "I've made arrangements for passage for two on a ship – a propeller steam ship. The ship has a cook to prepare the food and it carries a surgeon. It also carries cargo – goods and supplies to Australia but they're accepting paying passengers. I'm sure, if I had more time, I could find a passenger ship with better accommodations but the Alliance leaves in four days. I want to be on it."

"What? Four days? That means…"

"That means I need to leave tomorrow." Adam waited. He suddenly regretted keeping his plans secret; it was cruel.

"So that's what you've been up to in town. Sending telegrams. And by tomorrow you'll be gone. I didn't think it would be so soon…" Ben stared at the letter he still held and resisted the urge to crumple it with his fist and toss it into the fire. Damn Caleb Morgan!

"Once I made up my mind, well, I did a bit more reading about Australia – Queensland – and then wired the steamship company. I only need to speak to Sigrid Eklund."

Ben snorted. "Sigrid Eklund. And Alvar. Remember that, Adam! You have to talk to Alvar and he never was any too fond of you." Ben shook his finger at Adam. But it was ineffectual and he dropped his hand that rested like a wilted flower. "There's no point in my trying to discourage you then, is there," Ben said in a defeated tone.

"No. But do you totally disapprove of my asking Sigrid?"

"That depends – and it's not disapproval of her, but are you marrying just so you can have a someone to take care of your house and provide…marital comfort? If those are the reasons, you're no better than you think Alvar is – you both want to take advantage of her."

"Maybe I am taking advantage of her situation." Adam considered; it wasn't love that made him think of Sigrid – it was logic. Was he no better than Alvar Eklund in wanting someone to cook and clean for him? And why should Sigrid give up the comforts she had here for keeping house in an alien wilderness and lying on her back to fulfill his needs? Just because, to his knowledge, Sigrid hadn't been courted in the past, didn't mean she wouldn't be in the future and perhaps, by a man far more fitting than he. Then Adam's thoughts took another turn. "But Sigrid might also be taking advantage of me – using me as a way out of Virginia City, a way to get out from under her father's tyranny. It would be Sigrid's choice. I'll tell her up front what I need and the reality of the situation. If she wants away from here then this is her chance. If she doesn't, I imagine she'll let me know."

Adam stood up. Ben continued to stare at the low table sitting before the large fireplace. It held a vase of blue wildflowers that still bloomed in October. Soon, the flowers would be under a few feet of snow. Time passed so quickly.

"Pa, I'm going to see Sigrid this evening." Ben didn't reply. Adam stepped closer to his father and took the letter from his father's lax fingers. Then Ben looked up at Adam and offered a weak smile.

"I hope she … I don't know what I hope for Adam. I'm hoping if she says no, you'll stay here. But if she does say no, you'll probably just convince one of the barmaids to be your bride and still leave."

Adam chuckled. "I could do worse than a barmaid, Pa. But I understand the way you feel – I mean, I have conflicted feelings about leaving, but I need a change in my life."

"I don't suppose a long trip to Sacramento City would serve?" Ben offered a weak smile.

Adam chuckled. "No, Pa." He turned on his bootheels and went upstairs to shave and dress for courting.

Ben sat dejected in his chair. Once Adam boarded the ship for Australia, he knew he'd never see Adam again for the rest of his days. Why was Adam this way, wanting to leave all he had known for the unknown? Ben closed his eyes. Damnation. Adam _was_ just like him. Just like him.


	2. Chapter 2

**As I posted before Chapter 1, regretfully, I will delete all guest reviews, positive and negative, but thank you for reading.**

**Two**

Adam stood on the Eklund porch, his heart thudding; he suddenly felt ridiculous. The situation was absurd. How could he possibly think that he could just waltz in and leave with Sigrid's promise to be his wife? The whole situation was farcical.

He remembered all the romantic poetry he had read as a youth that fed the idea of one day meeting a woman and being transported to raptures of desire and love. But as Adam had aged and experienced life, those ideals faded and he realized that love is a much-valued commodity and doesn't grace everyone. But thankfully, there were other activities that that were good simulacrums of love and satisfied as much, if not more.

As Adam stood trying to decide whether or not to stay or turn tail and leave, an icy breeze lifted the dark curls at his nape. Were he superstitious, Adam considered, he would take it a bad sign-icy fingers caressing him-and his mind went to Mrs. Eklund so long ago. He shivered slightly and before his courage left him completely, he rapped on the front door and waited.

"Well, Adam Cartwright. And for why are you at my door after dark?" Alvar Eklund held the door with one hand and his burlwood pipe with the other. He glanced at Adam's clothes, noting that he was wearing his Sunday best. And it was Tuesday night. Was Adam a suitor for his daughter's hand? Alvar Eklund was puzzled by the presence of the man at his door; he did not like visitors, especially Adam.

"May I come in, Mr. Eklund? I have business." Adam had forgotten how physically intimidating Alvar Eklund was. Although he was now in his late fifties, Alvar was still a big, powerful man with a barrel-chest who worked full days in his smithy. He was also the town farrier. Behind his shop at the edge of town, set back much further from the street, Alvar had built the house so the noise from the hammering and the heat from the forge wouldn't disturb the peace of his bride who had also journeyed with him from Sweden. Mrs. Alvar had been of delicate constitution, kind and gentle, but often needed "doses" of certain elixirs to calm her nerves. Alvar seemed contemptuous of his wife's weakness, especially when he had to spend money on it. Once, when Adam was just a boy waiting on his father in the smithy, Alvar gave Adam two-bits and sent him to the general store for a brown glass bottle of "Ladies Vitality Tonic" and made it clear that the remaining nickel was to be returned to him. Mrs. Eklund was, in Ben's words after Adam asked him to explain on their ride home, "easily distressed" by things most married women take in stride; she was considered "hysterical" by nature. Adam was puzzled because his father refused to discuss further the matters of women and their apparent vagaries of mood. But the first time Adam saw Mrs. Eklund with her white-blonde hair and pale, smooth skin, he was smitten and had a schoolboy delight in seeing her.

During the early years of establishing himself and his ranch, Ben Cartwright, leaving the baby Hoss with a neighbor, Mrs. Shaughnessy, helped Alvar in the smithy a few days a week, pounding out hot iron for horse shoes. Ben had a working knowledge of ironwork, but there was much he didn't know such as how to temper iron, how to fix a broken pump or repair a plowshare or create simple tools such as a hoof pick; Alvar's instructions served Ben well. And in building and maintaining the Ponderosa, Ben recognized how invaluable that knowledge was, not to mention the $2.00 a day he was paid for withstanding the furnace blasts.

For a nickel a day, Adam worked the bellows. The smithy was hot despite being open and Adam hated the work but soon he was learning to make nails and how to solder but not without excruciating accidental burns and their resulting scars. But the first day, the scorching heat and his aching muscles caused Adam to want to quit, but the discomfort seemed to recede when Mrs. Eklund brought a pitcher of cool buttermilk and bread and cheese to him and his father for their lunch while Alvar sluiced his arms and face, cleaning up to eat inside at the kitchen table.

Mrs. Eklund had included some cookies for Adam-and she smiled at the boy and he beamed in gratitude- not just for the food but for the recognition; he missed having a woman about. It went so for a few days until Alvar spoke sharply to his wife in their native language; she dropped her eyes and hurried back to the house. Adam was both embarrassed and confused. He knew a few Swedish words, those Inger had taught him, and had heard what he thought was something about them being "hired" and the word "bread." But what Adam noticed the most was his father's stiff face as he listened to the harsh conversation. And the tightness about his mouth. And from then on, Ben brought their lunch, usually cold biscuit and slices of fried pork belly, and drank the water from the smithy pump. And the edge of friendliness was gone. But all Adam could get from his father was they were hired hands and as such, they were to take orders and do their work well.

Alvar Eklund held his place at the open door, not inviting Adam inside. "Business? What business could you have this time of night? I won't shoe a horse at this hour and if it's anything else, I do my business with your father." Eklund didn't care for Adam Cartwright despite the fact that he had never done anything to earn his dislike. But Adam had a reputation for being clever and Eklund felt he himself wasn't. Honest and hard-working, but not clever. Adam put him on edge, had done so since he was young boy and sweat in the smithy alongside his father. The boy noticed things and so did the man he became.

"My business is with your daughter, Mr. Eklund." Despite the misgivings he had about the situation, Adam decided that since he was there, he would go through with the proposal. "May I speak with her?"

"Why? Have you courting on your mind? If so, let me set you straight…" Alvar blocked his front door with his broad shoulders and thick body.

"Who's at the door, father?" a woman's voice demanded. It wasn't meek or coy and had an edge of impatience.

"It's no one. Just Adam Cartwright," Alvar said, looking back over his shoulder to answer. He turned back to face Adam. "Goodnight, Adam. Give my father your best." Alvar started to close the door but Sigrid came up behind him; Adam could only see the skirt of her gray dress as she moved. She was slight as her mother had been and was blocked from his view by her father's body.

"Invite Mr. Cartwright in, Father. I'll make fresh coffee. It's a cold night to keep someone standing outside."

Alvar scowled. "Come in, Adam." His voice dropped - "But you are not welcome in my home."

Adam held his tongue, refrained from a sarcastic reply. "Thank you, Mr. Eklund." He stepped inside, taking off his hat while Alvar closed the door. Adam glanced around the overstuffed parlor. It held too much ornate furniture, was too warm and seemed as suffocating as being pressed against a large woman's ponderous bosom. But then, Adam considered, perhaps he was just used to the spaciousness of the ranch house and the clean, masculine furniture. Marie, Joe's mother, had tried to add feminine touches to the rooms - sheer lace curtains between the drapes and the windows, antimacassars, doilies on the mantle and tabletops, an Aubusson rug to replace the woven Indian one; none of them dared step on the ornate, carved wool flowers except in their socks. But after Marie's untimely death, the doilies and antimacassars slowly disappeared, the lace curtains were removed to be washed and were never replaced, and the Aubusson ended up on Ben Cartwright's bedroom floor.

Alvar sat down in what appeared to be his favorite chair; it was well-worn – almost shabby, the edging frayed in spots. He continued to smoke his pipe while gazing at the opposite wall, not offering Adam a seat, not even looking at him. Adam stood a few seconds longer - then sat on the sofa. He placed his hat beside him; Sigrid wouldn't sit there, he was certain. And as he waited, Adam became more uncomfortable, sweat breaking out on his upper lip and forehead. He was sure that under his jacket, there were dark half-moons of dampness under his arms. Seeing Alvar always reminded Adam of the hanging that occurred on the anniversary of his own birth. And the connection with Sigrid.

It had been his sixteenth birthday and Ben was taking Adam to choose a new guitar. Up to then, Adam had learned the basic chords on an old, well-used guitar a retiring ranch hand had given him years earlier.

_"__My rheumatism is so bad now that, well, these old fingers just can't work like they used to. I thought since you like to hear me play, you might like this old guitar of mine. Besides, I don't want to carry it all the way to Illinois to my daughter's place."_

That morning of his birthday, his brothers had given him a book of poems. _"Joe and me done extra chores to pay for this so's you got to read some of them things aloud to us."_ Hop Sing, their cook, was making him a vanilla layer cake with boiled sugar icing and his father announced he would take Adam into town to order a guitar, a new guitar, from the catalogue at the general store. And Adam knew exactly which one he wanted as he always glanced through the catalogue on their monthly visits, lingering over the pages that held drawings, descriptions and prices of guitars, fiddles, banjoes, and French harps. But this day, as they entered the town, the smithy was silent and Alvar Eklund was practically dragging a badly-beaten, dark-haired man down the street, a loud and encouraging mass of men moving with them. Ben stopped the buckboard.

"What's going on, Pa?" Adam had never seen a loud, unruly group of men; they were truly frightening. Then Adam saw that one of the other men held a coiled rope, waving it above his head. Ben also saw it.

"Wait here, Adam." Ben tied off the reins and set the foot brake.

Adam grabbed his father's arm. "I'm not waiting here. If you're going to find out what's going on, I'm going too." Ben looked evenly at Adam. At sixteen, he was a man. Ben conceded. Adam jumped down from the seat and he and his father hurried to the shouting mob which stood in a circle surrounding Alvar and the dark-haired man. Someone had tossed the rope over a high, thick branch of the old oak standing in front of the general store. Townspeople and merchants along with children and barking dogs excited by all the activity, had gathered on the boardwalk to stare. Hangings were a rarity; usually, when a crime was committed, the perpetrator was shot dead—why waste time tying a rope? But those times, it was often difficult to determine who really was the guilty party with one of those involved, dead.

"Wait, wait a minute here," Ben said to Adam. He roughly pushed himself through the crowd until he reached the men and the rope. "Wait!" Ben shouted. The crowd quieted some and Alvar Eklund still held the man firmly, one hand like a vise on the back of the man's neck. Adam stood on the periphery of the mob, wishing he had a gun in case the crowd's outrage and anger turned on his father. "Now what's going on?" Ben asked. "Why are you hanging this man?"

Adam scrutinized the man to be hanged; he was a stranger, probably a passing cowboy, and one eye was swollen shut and it appeared his jaw was broken as he couldn't form words; odd sounds burbled from his mouth. He was having difficulty breathing as well and Adam supposed his ribs were broken by Alvar's fists that could hit as hard as a mule kicks. Adam also observed the stranger's dungaree fly was only partially buttoned up, as if he had been interrupted while taking a piss.

"This is no business of yours, Ben Cartwright," Alvar said, his face red with fury, sweat glistening on his bare arms; he still wore his leather apron which had smears of blood on it.

"Alvar-all of you. If this man has done something wrong…"

Alvar released the man who crumpled to the dirt. "You can stand and say 'if'? Who are you to ask? Who are you to question? You go to my house, Ben Cartwright." Alvar's voice began to quaver with emotion. "You look at my wife. You see Annika in her torn clothes and shaking and screaming after what this dog did to her… It's unspeakable."

"Alvar, you've almost beaten him to death, taken out your fury on him. Let's ask the sheriff of Carson City to…"

Owen Castor stepped forward. "We take care of our own, Ben. We live here in town – not you. We solve our own problems and if a man does wrong to one, he does wrong to all of us! Right now, my Cassie and some of the other womenfolk are trying to help calm Mrs. Eklund. Listen and you can still hear her screaming! When we get a sheriff, then he can handle our other matters but something like this, a man who rapes a helpless woman…"

Adam couldn't breathe. Lovely, gentle, fragile Mrs. Eklund had been assaulted by this despicable, filthy, stinking cowboy. He should hang. He should. But the mob was terrifying. What if the man was innocent? Adam thought. What if? But Adam was sure he wasn't. And yet there was always the possibility.

"We can't be like animals," Ben continued desperately. "There's a process…"

"Get out of my way, Benjamin! Get out!" Alvar swung his arm and violently pushed Ben Cartwright aside and the crowd closed in. Screeching came from the doomed man and Ben was shoved outward until he stood by Adam in the street.

"Let's go, Adam. Let's go home."

"Pa…" Adam looked back at the crowd. A cheer rose from them as Adam saw the man being raised above them; some men were pulling on the other end of the rope, moving further and further away so the man was jerked higher and higher. It wasn't a proper noose, just a slip knot that pulled tight from the man's weight and he was choking to death; his neck hadn't been mercifully snapped nor had his hands been tied. He clawed at the noose, trying desperately to free himself, his legs flailing wildly as he spun in the air.

"Adam! Let's go! Get back in the wagon!" Ben pushed Adam toward the wagon as Adam couldn't look away. "Let's go." Ben climbed up and took the reins.

Adam finally turned his eyes from the scene. He climbed back up to his place beside his father and Ben turned the wagon about. "Don't look back, Adam. It's an ugly sight – men behaving like rabid dogs! That's the bigger horror."

But Adam did look back and finally, the man's hands stopped their clutching and his legs ended their movement except for a few spasmodic kicks. And then he just swung.

The incident broke Mrs. Eklund's mind; she never uttered another coherent sentence. And nine months later, a dark-haired daughter was born to the Eklunds. A wet nurse was needed as Mrs. Eklund was beyond caring for even herself. She wandered about the town, her skirt hems dragging in the mud and dirt, her white-blonde hair unkempt, her hands soiled. Finally, Alvar had to tie a rope about her waist and tether her to a tree in their front yard so he could work uninterrupted in his smithy and would no longer have to search for his mad wife as she roamed about, becoming the object of children's ridicule who called her "the mad madam of Sweden" and threw pebbles at her. But Mrs. Eklund would only absently smile and jabber, spit gathering at the corners of her mouth. Then one day, when Sigrid was about three, Alvar found his wife had managed to wrap the rope twice about her neck and apparently throttled herself. Whether by accident or not, who knew?

Now, sitting in Mrs. Eklund's parlor, looking about the room, Adam wondered if it wasn't painful for Mr. Eklund to live in this house he had once shared with his wife and in which he watched her go raving mad. But suddenly his attention was diverted. Sigrid Eklund walked into the room holding a tray with a porcelain coffee set and a plate of cookies.

For the first time, Adam really looked at Sigrid, remembering all the while that she was conceived 23 years ago-on his sixteenth birthday. And he wondered if she knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all who are reading - I don't have time to reply to each of you this morning but I appreciate the encouragement. **

**And I remove all guest reviews. **

**Three**

"Shall I pour before I leave you to discuss your business?" Sigrid asked Adam; she had yet to smile at him; perhaps he wasn't welcomed by both.

Adam stumbled over his words, feeling surprisingly awkward. With all he had faced in his life, Adam wondered why this should intimidate him - after all, he had practiced the "proposal" as he dressed that evening. But suddenly he considered something new; if Sigrid agreed to marry him, they would be together for many years to come. And he didn't know if they even liked each other. But then many married couples didn't like each other very much; that he knew. "Please don't leave, Miss Eklund. It's you I have business with—not your father."

Sigrid, who had reached for the coffee pot, withdrew her hand and looked to her father who refused to look at her or Adam; he rapidly puffed on his pipe.

"With me?" Sigrid asked, puzzled.

"Yes." Adam moved forward on the sofa. He looked at Sigrid, really looked at her for the first time. She had her mother's smooth, pale skin but her hair was thick and dark, and although she had captured most of it in a snood, stray curls had worked their way out about her temples. As for her face, her features were oddly unbalanced, one eyebrow arching higher than the other, her eyes lined with sooty lashes. Although she was no great beauty, there was something about her face that pleased him.

Adam took a deep breath. "I have a…well, it might be considered a business proposition, or a marriage proposal. I suppose it's a matter of perception." Sigrid sat down on a nearby chair, curious, but Alvar Eklund stood up.

"You come into my house, Adam Cartwright, basically a stranger to my daughter, and have the boldness to ask her to marry you?" He jabbed the pipe stem toward Adam, his hand shaking with fury. "Who are you to do so? And why my daughter? Min dotter?" Alvar dropped his pipe into an ashtray on the table and strode boldly to the antler rack hanging on the wall, lifting out his rifle. He jacked it and pointed it toward Adam. "Now, get out of my house and if you ever set foot in my home again, I'll kill you and enjoy doing it!"

Adam slowly stood; he regretted not having donned his gun belt and having left his rifle in its scabbard. Alvar, his face red with anger, wasn't bluffing. But Sigrid also stood up and stepped between the two men.

"_Min Far_, put away your rifle. I will speak with Mr. Cartwright—I will hear him out. If you choose to stay in the room, I ask that you not interfere. I know you are concerned for me and it is with respect that I ask you to let me make decisions affecting my life; I am of age to decide these things for myself."

"Sigrid…" Eklund dropped the rifle to his side as if exhausted by his fury. "I only want what's best for you. Remember the Handley boy. And that Nate Mercer. Why should this one be any different from them? They had nothing to offer and he hasn't either-just money and a name. Having money doesn't ensure a man's any good; on the contrary. I have found that having money is usually plied as an excuse for horrifying behavior and a well-connected family protects a man from legal consequences. This man asks for your hand while never having spent any time in your company. Why? Why does he want to marry you except that he remembers…" Eklund stopped and met Adam's eyes; they were both remembering the incident so many years ago. Then Eklund looked at Sigrid and his face softened. "Surely, _min dotter_, you can't count this man as a serious suitor?"

"_Far_, please do as I ask. If you insist on interfering, I shall speak with him alone on the porch." Sigrid spoke gently but there was no compromise in her words. That surprised Adam. He had always believed Sigrid Eklund was a meek girl, quashed under the heavy thumb of her domineering father. Perhaps the reverse was true. Perhaps Alvar Eklund was in awe of the young woman who had basically run his household and he obeyed her wishes as if they were commands. Adam knew people see what they expect to see and up to that moment, Adam always assumed Alvar resented the child of the man who defiled his wife and caused her to go mad. But it didn't seem so now.

Alvar, dejected, hung his rifle back on its rack. He stood for a moment longer and then slowly went up the stairs. Once he reached the top landing, he turned. "And see you do not stay late, Adam Cartwright. _Min dotter_ is a good girl – morally upright and not taken to sitting up late with men." Then he rounded the corner and was out of sight.

Sigrid sat down and Adam did as well but he still sat close to the cushion's edge.

"How do you like your coffee, Mr. Cartwright?"

"Just sugar, please. One." Adam waited while Sigrid, poured coffee and dropped a sugar loaf into it. Rising, she handed him the cup and saucer with one hand, and a teaspoon and napkin with the other. He took them from her, noticing her hands, how they were small as her mother's had been. Adam wondered what Sigrid knew about her mother; he hadn't noticed any photographs on display. Did Sigrid even remember what her mother looked like? Did she know how kind and lovely her mother had been?

"Help yourself to the cookies. They're my father's favorite-drömmar- so I always keep the cookie jar filled. Do you like sweets, Mr. Cartwright?"

"Yes, I do." Adam sat the cup and saucer back on the table between them. He took a cookie and bit into it. The buttery, vanilla taste took him back to the cookies he ate in the smithy so many years ago. "Your mother baked these. She gave me some when I was a boy; they were like bits of heaven. You say they're called drömmar?"

"Yes. Drömmar means dream; they're 'dream cookies'. Years ago, I found the recipe in an old Swedish cookbook stored on a kitchen shelf; it was my grandmother's cookbook. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Helström, taught me to cook and bake and translated the ingredients into English. I hope my cookies are as good as you remember my mother's to have been."

Adam offered a small smile and ate two more cookies in silence before drinking his coffee. Then he sat, considering his approach.

"Hoss, my brother, his mother was Swedish. Her name was Inger Borgström and she…" Adam chuckled self-consciously. "I suppose I'm looking to find some common ground. We don't know each other so I, well, it makes things…" Adam sighed and stood up. "Thank you for your courtesy, Miss Eklund, and for calling off your father. Also, for the coffee and cookies, but I realize that the reason I came here was, at best, hubris on my part, and at its worst, insulting to you."

"Please sit down. I'm determined to hear what you have to say. You have piqued my curiosity and I will hear your business."

Adam judged the situation. Sigrid wasn't what he had expected; she had that same iron core that Inger had, that same strength that had allowed Inger to marry his father and travel with them across the continent and even to bear a child along the way. But still, Adam considered, did he have such a high opinion of himself that he thought Sigrid would leap at the idea to go off with him? Adam wanted to walk away from the whole idea and yet…Sigrid Eklund was to be obeyed.

"All right." Adam sat back down, clasping his hands, his elbows on his knees. "In four days, I plan to be on a ship for Australia. I'm going into business – mining - with an old friend of mine, Caleb Morgan, who's already there. The trip will take over a month and I have no idea what I'll find when I get to Queensland but I want to take the chance. My friend urged me to bring along a wife and since I have none and need to leave for San Francisco tomorrow, well, I was wondering if you would join me. That's why I'm here-or why I came here." He waited, watching Sigrid's calm face; her expression hadn't changed.

Sigrid seemed to gather herself. "Why ask me, Mr. Cartwright? Is it because I am without husband at my age? Or is it that due to my parentage, you feel I am unmarriageable, that no one who knows my background could possibly want me? Therefore, I would snatch at your proposition. After all, my actual father – if that is what he is to be called - forced himself on my mother and was hanged for his crime. But you know that, don't you? Yet you're willing to deign to marry me and take me with you across the seas to the other side of the world to use me to keep house and fulfill your desires. Oh, don't protest, Mr. Cartwright; I am not naïve. I am well aware of wifely duties. You pity me-poor spinster bastard, Sigrid Eklund. Am I correct?" She waited.

By the subtle heaving of her breast, Adam knew Sigrid was upset, although neither her face nor her voice betrayed her. "You're hard on yourself, Miss Eklund, but yes, that's partially what I had thought - but I see I was wrong. I'd prejudged you and expected you to be a lonely young woman subjugated by an overbearing father. I thought he kept you from having friends and…suitors. I mean I've ever noticed you out with a young man." Sigrid Eklund had him off-balance and Adam wasn't used to feeling so disconcerted.

"You never noticed me at all, did you?" Sigrid waited, smiling slightly.

"No, I suppose I didn't. You were only a young girl when I left for war and…so, I suppose now that I've confessed and you have the upper hand, you're going to demand I leave"

Sigrid laughed without amusement. "Is that what you think? Oh, Mr. Cartwright, you are full of biases and prejudices, aren't you? You see, I have noticed you, and in my opinion, you are a vain, supercilious, haughty man who demands adoration from any woman he selects to squire about. Is that a true summation of your character?"

It was Adam's turn to laugh—not at Sigrid, but at himself. "I suppose to some degree, it is. I often have a high opinion of my abilities. I have, in the past, also been flattered by many lovely women. I think I may even have taken some of it seriously – one of the many flaws in my character. But since I've returned, well, I know myself better and I don't much like what I see."

"Well, we seem to be two unpleasant people, don't we? So," Sigrid said, sitting more upright, "let me understand - you are asking me to accompany you to Australia as your wife."

"Yes." Adam watched Sigrid carefully. Was she setting him up merely to say no?

"Then you are offering marriage? Aren't you afraid I will be like my mother?"

Adam was puzzled. "I hope you would be. I…I was fond of her. She was lovely and was kind to me, a small, motherless boy."

"But she went mad. Perhaps I'll become unhinged as well. Did you consider that?"

Adam sat in silence; he hadn't considered it. He knew it was possible that put through enough, any person could lose the tenuous grasp on reality. He had seen it on the battlefield and in his own life.

"All life is a risk. And you can always decline my offer."

Sigrid considered. She didn't know Adam Cartwright, but then, he was the best prospect for her to escape her life in her father's house. Sigrid wasn't unhappy, but she rose each day knowing what to expect – except, apparently, today. And she longed to be a woman of means in her own right. She decided to make a counter proposal.

"I would, if your offer of marriage still stands, Mr. Cartwright, demand part interest of any mining operation in my own name, exclusive of your interest."

Adam managed a slight grin; he was beginning to like and respect Sigrid Eklund very much; she was shrewd. "My proposition – proposal - still stands. If you agree, we can marry tomorrow and tonight, I'll write up a contract that gives you one third of my share in any venture we undertake - in your own name - as a wedding present."

"I would demand half of your share. After all, we would be partners."

"All right, half."

"You would need an answer tonight – now - I suppose," Sigrid said quietly.

"Yes. I'm trying to cement arrangements."

Sigrid scrutinized the man before her; her head was spinning, her heart thumping. Could she wake up every morning and look in his eyes after lying with him the previous night? Could she cook and clean, scrub floors on her knees and wash dishes and clothing for him? If God should desire, could she gladly give him children? Adam Cartwright's face was beginning to show his years, lined by hard-work and what to Sigrid's eye, seemed pain from an unknown source. His dark hair was graying about the temples but what she noted the most were his eyes, an odd golden-brown. Sigrid glanced at his hands. They also reflected hard work but the nails were pared and clean, the fingers long and elegant, the thumbs, narrow-waisted. Something she had heard…yes, he played the guitar. And although Sigrid knew it was foolish, could any man with an artistic temperament be cruel to a woman?

"Of late, I have found myself wanting for a change," Sigrid said. "I will accept your offer of marriage, Mr. Cartwright."

A shuddering sigh escaped him; Adam hadn't realized he had been holding his breath.

"I need to…inform you that it won't be easy. It is a wilderness and although there is a house for us, I was told not to expect too much. We'll be a distance from any town; there's a small settlement of traders and such, the rudiments of society, nearby but that's it. You should know that you'll have to, well, have a kitchen garden and tend chickens and some cows and…I'll be gone all day and you'll be basically alone until I'm home at night." He sat and waited, watching Sigrid's face. Adam expected to see a change come over her at the daunting prospects but her expression never altered.

"I think I can bear up under the weight," she said.

Adam was taken aback – was her reply a double entendre? Was she referring to his weight above her as they coupled? Was Sigrid flirting with him? No. It couldn't be. There was no smile, no tilt of the head, no sly smile indicating such. But still…Adam felt himself heat up like a stallion that catches the scent of a ready mare.

"All right," he said. "We'll have to leave right after visiting the justice of the peace in the morning, so you'll need to pack tonight and be ready by 9:00 in the morning. And we'll have to tell your father of your decision, of course." Adam waited and watched Sigrid.

Sigrid rose from her chair, a bit unsteady, as Adam noticed. "It's an acceptable agreement, Mr. Cartwright, if you follow through."

"I'll follow through. And, although a kiss after an acceptance of marriage may be provincial, I suppose it is expected…" Adam took Sigrid's hands in his. He bent to kiss her mouth but she turned her face and his lips touched her cheek. But it was a kiss and it was done. _My reluctant bride_, he thought. "Call your father down. We'll tell him."

"No, Mr. Cartwright – that wouldn't be wise. Our marriage is not a meeting of the hearts so I think it's best I tell him myself and give him my reasons. He has been a wonderful father to me and I…he might think I'm rejecting all he's given me to leave with you; he might blame you more than you deserve. And I don't think he cares for you very much as it is."

"All right, but if you change your mind about marrying me, it doesn't leave much time to find someone else."

Sigrid smirked. "Are all women so interchangeable to you?"

"What?" Adam had picked up his hat; he hadn't quite heard.

"Nothing. Tomorrow then."

Adam started toward the door. "I'll be here at 9:00 with the contract and the rest of what I'll need to travel. Think your father will shoot me before I can climb down from the buggy?"

"It's possible. I suppose you'll have to judge if I'm worth the risk."

"I think you just may be. You seem to be a formidable woman, Sigrid Eklund. And an equal partner."

Sigrid walked Adam to the door and together, they stepped out onto the porch.

"Do you think the sky looks the same in Australia?" Sigrid asked as she looked up at the stars.

"I'm sure it does—the constellations move about but since Australia is in the southern hemisphere, north circumpolar constellations won't be observable…" Adam chuckled at Sigrid's expression; she had arched one eyebrow in amusement and was smiling. "I suppose stars should remain "candles" in the night sky and not a matter of factual science, especially after such a romantic moment as a marriage proposal. Forgive me, Sigrid. I am not the most romantic of men." Adam put his hat on and started to leave but turned on the last step. "Sigrid, you won't change your mind, will you?"

"No. Will you?"

"No. I won't change my mind."

Riding home in the dark, considering all that had transpired in the past hour, Adam decided that Sigrid was definitely worth the risk of facing Alvar's rifle again. He felt excitement that made his blood pulse throughout his body, stimulating all his senses. The air seemed crisper, fresher, the sounds of crickets, louder, the feel of Sigrid's smooth skin still on his lips. Adam considered the two unknowns in his future, the two "lands" waiting to be explored. One was the wilderness of Australia but the other, Sigrid Eklund, was the greater challenge. Adam smiled to himself as the lines of a John Donne poem came to him:

_O…my new-found-land, _

_My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann'd, _

_My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie, _

_How blest am I in this discovering thee! _

_To enter in these bonds, is to be free; _

_Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be._.

He would have two new lands to explore. And as of tonight, Sigrid Eklund was the greater draw.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Sigrid Eklund, wearing a light blue wool traveling suit and a bonnet with a pink ribbon tied under her chin, was sitting atop a large trunk on the front porch of her father's house. A smaller trunk and a valise rested next to her on the wooden porch slats. She stood when she saw Adam and Ben driving up in a buckboard and by looking at her, no one would discern her nervousness.

Adam wanted to speak to Alvar Eklund, to assure him he would take good care of Sigrid, but Sigrid said that she and her father had already said goodbye and he had no desire to speak with Adam. "It is best this way," Sigrid said, her voice slightly breaking, before Adam handed her up to the buggy seat. Yet to Adam, it all seemed strange. What father didn't want to see his only daughter off when there was a good chance he may not live to see her return, if she ever did return? But instead of questioning Sigrid, Adam and Ben loaded the trunks and valise into the wagon bed with Adam's small trunk, carpetbag, and guitar case. Adam glanced at the Eklund house before he took his seat beside Sigrid and saw the front curtain fall back into place.

But Sigrid hadn't been the only one who had to deal with a judgmental and disapproving parent.

_"__But, min dotter, why this man? Adam Cartwright has all the Ponderosa and he tosses it aside as if the land is worthless. How his father must feel, having practically broken his back to provide an inheritance for his sons only to be scorned! Not that I have much sympathy for Ben – his son is who is because of his father."_

_"__What do you mean, because of his father?"_

_"__Ben Cartwright was always…what is the word…lofty. He always held he was higher than the rest of us, him with all that land. You take notice Adam Cartwright didn't come call on you earlier, didn't take note of you until he needed a wife. Then he comes call."_

_"__I have decided, min far. I will marry him. I have heard nothing bad of him nor seen anything that would make me think otherwise. And I think we are more partners in this….venture, than we are husband and wife."_

_"__You say you've seen nothing! You sat with him for what – a half hour? You mark my word, min dotter - he is…cunning, always has been. As a young boy, he was always watching, listening, and he made his own opinions of things that were not his business. He disapproved of me many years ago and now I disapprove of him." _

Adam also had to deal with Hop Sing.

"No. No. Mistah Adam need sweet cake and lucky food for long life and happy marriage. Cannot marry if no feast. And no marriage gift for bride family? Not know if lucky day for marriage! What if bad time? Must have noodles for long life, whole fish, duck. All good food for good marriage. And need food for make bride have many children. Not good marry so fast. Not good. Hop Sing must visit fortune-teller – ask what best marriage day."

"Hop Sing, I don't have time for anyone to cast my horoscope – or hers. We're marrying this morning and that's all there is to it. Now wish me luck."

Hop Sing, with furrowed brow, shook his head. "Saying in China – To know road ahead, ask man coming back. No one come from where you go so Hop Sing ask fortune-teller about trip – about Aus…about land far away. Longer away than China."

"I thank you, Hop Sing, but it's been decided." Adam went back to packing the freshly laundered clothes Hop Sing had handed him. And Hop Sing walked away, shaking his head and muttering in Chinese.

On the drive to the Eklunds, Ben couldn't contain himself any longer. He had lain awake all night, fury in his breast as he thought over the situation. Adam was a man and could do as he liked but did he feel no allegiance to the Ponderosa or his own family? Perhaps if he brought that up to Adam, Ben considered? But Adam had his jaw set and he was stubborn once he decided on a thing. How Ben longed for the days when he could forbid Adam to do something, send him to his room and be at peace knowing his child was safe at home. And days flew by so quickly – Adam had been a boy and next Ben knew, Adam was a grown man – or so it seemed.

"I just don't see why you have to leave? I understand wanting a wife, a family, a home, but you have a third of the Ponderosa, yours to settle on whenever you want? You can build your own house and marry whomever you want. If you want a wife, like I said, why not Mary Dawson? I've seen the way she looks at you."

Adam held the reins loosely in his hands, resisting the urge to snap them and yell "Gee-up!" and cause his father to hold on for his life as they careened down the dirt road to town. "Pa, I don't want to argue about this and Mary Dawson may look at me 'that way' but I don't return her feelings."

"You'd grow to love her – I guarantee. When a man sleeps with a woman, he comes to love her. And when she bears him a child, that binds them together for eternity. You never gave Mary a chance."

Adam gave Ben a sideways glance, a small smile playing about his lips. "So, are you suggesting I sleep with Mary Dawson, impregnate her, and then see if I fall in love with her?"

"Now, Adam, you know what I mean. And marrying Sigrid…what type of woman is she anyway? I mean, a woman who'd leave everything behind, for what? Tell me that? Surely she doesn't love you and I know you don't love her!"

"Well, Pa, like you just said, when a man sleeps with a woman, he comes to love her." Adam turned to look at his father. "You did say that, right?"

"Just like always - turn my words against me." Ben snorted in disgust. Tripped up by his own words.

Adam chuckled. "Now, Pa, give up trying to change my mind. I've thought about this for a while and I want to do it. Let me leave on good terms with you."

"And that's another thing. You had this all planned out and didn't tell me until yesterday. Yesterday!" Ben roared.

"What difference would it have made if I'd told you days ago. All it would have done is give you more time to try to dissuade me. And as I said, you did the same thing so many years ago – take off to settle in the wilderness."

Ben mumbled, "At least I had the decency to wait until my father died."

Adm laughed out loud and Ben was chagrined.

"Oh, Pa, as healthy as you are. I'd be an old man before you 'shuffle off this mortal coil'. I'm going and fortunately, I found a woman to join me."

"I just…" Ben felt tears heavy behind his eyes. He wouldn't cry. He had cried the night that Adam had left to join the war and many nights after as he waited for news about his eldest. At least this was different - in a manner; Adam wouldn't be all alone with no one to care for him should he become ill or hurt. It may not be the sensible Mary Dawson who accompanies him, but it was someone.

Hoss and Joe were already at the courthouse and the wedding was a quick ceremony, the paper work taking longer than the ceremony. In the exchange of vows, for a brief moment, Sigrid paused when it was her time and then replied, "I do". Once pronounced married, Adam perfunctorily kissed Sigrid, but this time, it was on her mouth; Sigrid seemed relieved. Then they waited and Adam paced while the marriage license was pounded out by a clerk who typed with two fingers and when it was finished, he signed as did Sigrid. Then Ben signed as witness and the clerk of court; Adam realized he was a married man.

"Didn't know I'd live to see the day," Hoss said, shaking Adam's hand. "Congratulations, brother. Oh, and Adam, 'bout what I said last night when you told Pa and me Sigrid sad she'd marry you and you was goin' away, well, I had time to think it over and all I can say is I'm sorry iffen I upset you and I hope you come back home in a few years. All of us, we was worried ever' day when you was back east fightin' and I guess in a way, it'll be a little like that but, well, just come home - someday."

"Yeah, Adam, preferably come home before Pa dies. This is going to be hard on all of us, but Pa especially" Joe said. "Oh, and Marianne sends her love but being heavy with child again…"

"I understand – what both are you are saying. I know it's hard for Pa, I do. I just don't know how to make it easier for him," Adam said. "Joe, write and tell me if you have a son or daughter."

Joe leaned in conspiratorially. "And you write when you have your first."

Adam felt self-conscious with Sigrid so near but gave Joe a smile. Marriage entailed many things and suddenly it all became real; he felt he had been slammed across the back with a 2x4 and was helplessly falling forward. He glanced at Sigrid who was talking with his father but her hands in their yellow lambskin gloves seemed to dart like butterflies. She was anxious as well – he was beginning to recognize her "tells"; one was how she clasped her hands tightly as if she was holding herself together, and the other was when her hands were loose, flitting about. But they were now married and suddenly Adam wanted to call things off – the marriage, the journey to San Francisco and the voyage to Australia. He wanted life as it had been – so comfortable - but it was too late. Or was it? What would happen if he suddenly ended the whole adventure? It was a temptation.

Adam watched Sigrid as both Joe and Hoss kissed the bride. She forced a smile but Adam wondered what she thought. Was she also regretting her hasty decision? He didn't know but he wouldn't be surprised if, at any time before they boarded the ship, she expressed regret – pulled away and cried for home. Adam decided if she did, he would release her and leave her to seek an annulment. That is, if she chose to do so. What would it matter if they were married and yet separated since he would be on the other side of the world? Married, even at that great distance, she could inherit from him.

The ride to Carson City was basically quiet. Ben was now resigned so he tried to make small talk with Sigrid but she seemed disinclined. Therefore, Ben and Adam talked around her and she didn't seem to notice – she just stared straight ahead as the landscape passed on both sides, her hands clasped tightly. And father and son discussed the weather and travel and then Ben asked about The Alliance.

"It's an Australian ship, registered there. I did some research and they pull into San Francisco for supplies to Australia, then back to Queensland to deliver their cargo. There, they load up on coal and other resources, and then back San Francisco. As I said, they're only now starting to take passengers."

Silence fell. Then Ben cleared his throat. "Do you…trust them?" Sigrid's head jerked to first Ben, and then toward Adam.

Adam grinned over her head. "Pa, you know I don't trust anyone. But I think we'll be safe."

"What…" Sigrid's breathing stepped up. "What do you mean by safe? What do you mean?"

Ben reached out and patted Sigrid's hand. "I was just making conversation, that's all." He looked over at Adam who just shook his head.

"Do you think they might kill us? Rob us?" Sigrid implored Ben.

"No, not at all, Sigrid, not at all. I was thinking more along the lines of their declining your boarding, that's all. You know, the captain telling Adam he's changed his mind about taking on passengers and not refunding the money, nothing more than that."

Sigrid noticed the glances between father and son but chose to stay silent. Thoughts of being killed in her sleep ran through her head, of being ravished by a group of lusty sailors before they threw her overboard raced through her mind. She looked again at Adam, at his hands as he held the reins controlling the horse and she felt less anxious. Hands like that – he would protect her, take care of her. She wondered how it would feel to have those hands on her and then pushed the thought from her head. There was no love between them; that she knew. Why he had yet to call her "Sigrid" nor she call him "Adam"; it was a long way to calling each other "sweetheart" or "darling" and Sigrid wondered if she had cheated herself by marrying a man who only wanted a helpmeet. But that's what Eve had been to Adam – initially; the "knowledge" of one another and the children had only come after the disobedience. There were worse things in life, she decided, things such as remaining unmarried and keeping her father's house until he died. And then marrying whomever asked her.

Yes, there were far worse things than lying under this man with the strong hands.

~ 0 ~

"What the hell do you mean, late?" Adam felt anger rise like a hungry wolf. He knew it wasn't this man's fault but there was no one else to receive his fury.

"Mister, from the wire I got yesterday, the tracks round outside Cheyenne were torn up – might've been Indians, might've been robbers hopin' to rob the train but it don't matter 'cause it took almost two days to repair. Now those passengers, them's the ones been put out. The engineer's been tryin' to make up for lost time – stopped once to send the wire, but it's gonna be a day and a half late no matter what."

"I…" Adam took a deep breath, composing himself; he couldn't understand why he was so angry. After all, they would make it to San Francisco in time to catch the Alliance even with the delay, but he had hoped to give Sigrid at least one night in a good San Francisco hotel and perhaps even the theater. It was all he could offer her that might even pass as a honeymoon. "All right. What time tomorrow should the train arrive?"

"Maybe 6:00 in the evening at the earliest."

Adam walked back to his father and Sigrid who waited patiently. He told them both about the train's delay.

"We could head back to the Ponderosa but it just seems…" Adam searched Sigrid's face for some clue as to what she thought but she gave nothing away. "What do you think…" He hesitated before saying her name but then - "Sigrid, what do you prefer?"

"I think, husband, we should stay here. Perhaps the train will be earlier than supposed."

Adam smiled at the clever way Sigrid managed avoiding using his name. "I agree with you. Pa, I'm going to ask the station master to lock up our trunks and such."

Sigrid stepped forward to take her valise; it had necessities. "Adam, what about your guitar?" The guitar case lay on top of their trunks.

"Yes. I'll take that with us." He pulled the case off the trunks and set it at Sigrid's feet along with his carpet bag. "Wait here. I'll be back."

Sigrid stood, her stomach churning. Adam seemed calm and in charge of the whole matter but she felt as if she were in a whirlwind, being swept off and away. She watched the two men, and it suddenly hit her that she was married and wondered if this life was to be any better than the one she left behind. Her knees went weak and Sigrid almost toppled over, making it to a bench just in time. But neither of the Cartwrights even noticed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

Before he climbed back up onto the wagon seat, Ben pressed $500.00 worth of silver coins into Adam's hand.

"Pa, I don't need the money – I have more than enough. Really. I have… "

"I want you two to have it. You didn't give me time to buy a wedding gift and I…Adam, maybe you should rethink this whole thing. It's happened so quickly that…" Ben noticed Adam's expression indicating he didn't want to go over it again. "I'm sorry, Adam. And I know I should leave you two and head home, but I can't bring myself to walk away from you."

"Pa. it's all right. I'll write you as soon as I'm – as soon as _we're_ settled. I promise."

"Yes, I'm sure you will…it's just waiting for word. And, Adam, I've been to sea and know all that can happen…" Ben swallowed hard; he had to let go – again. How many times would he have to release his eldest into the hands of fate? "Goodbye, son." Ben was overwhelmed. Nothing seemed real and even Sigrid looked stunned by her sudden change in circumstances. But Adam seemed determined, confident, and that gave Ben a little comfort. Ben gathered the courage he needed. So, with a kiss on Sigrid's cheek and a tight clasping of Adam to him, Ben turned and walked away, trying to keep his son's warmth with him for the long ride back to the Ponderosa.

~ 0 ~

Adam turned to Sigrid who had taken off her gloves and placed them on the dresser. He watched as she removed her bonnet and stood before the mirror in the small hotel room, smoothing her dark hair. These were the best accommodations the hotel had. There were two hotels in Carson City and a third was being built. After all, it was now the capital city and it was bustling with construction and visitors. Both older hotels were renovating, installing piping for gas lights throughout; it made some of the rooms uninhabitable for the time with the walls having been broken open to set the pipes. At least this hotel had running water. The desk clerk told Adam he and "his missus" were fortunate that there was any room at all, especially with so many new government workers who were waiting for their homes to be built. "Looks like we're gonna have a Nob Hill of our very own," the desk clerk said. "All them people who work for the state and all are gonna live there. Some fancy houses are goin'up."

The room had narrow twin beds. A small table between them held a lamp – an oil lamp. Above the lamp was a window that looked out on the bustling street. A wardrobe was against one wall and a bureau with the mirror above it was next to the door. A braided rug ran under the beds and a small wood-burning stove stood in a corner, venting to the outside. A sink was against the hallway wall with towels and wash rags on a free-standing rack.

Sigrid sat on one of the beds and turned up the small watch pinned to her jacket so she could read the face, but she said nothing.

Adam leaned one hand against the wall and looked out the window. He had opened it and pushed the sheers aside since they billowed in the breeze and brushed his face. He felt mean; his plans had been thwarted and if they missed The Alliance, well, Adam knew it wouldn't be a catastrophe but he would never get back the deposit he had wired. And although he had more than enough money with him to catch another ship if one was soon available, what if the mining venture ended up a bust? He would have no money to return to America. And what had he been thinking, marrying this woman who simply sat patiently on her bed waiting on him. Adam pulled out his pocket watch; it was past 1:00. He looked back at Sigrid who just sat, looking at her folded hands. Why didn't she say anything? Was he going to have to live with silence?

"Sigrid," Adam said, turning away from the window, "I'm sorry about the room. It's no honeymoon suite."

"It has beds and running water." She glanced about. "And a stove, if needed. I think it's nice enough for one night."

"Yeah, all the comforts of home." Adam felt he would crawl out of his skin. And here, in the same room, no more than a few feet from him was the young woman who had become his wife. He imagined what was under her prim suit - her round thighs and firm breasts. She would be pink and ivory and warm and moist… He sighed. That would take the edge off, to push Sigrid on her back and toss up her skirts and have his "wife". It would also pass the time. They had hours and hours until the train arrived tomorrow. Sigrid had said she knew what marriage entailed but did she really? He would gladly teach her - everything.

Adam remembered how he and Carl Reagan and the Bonner brothers would talk about girls they knew when they were young and callow. They revealed which girl allowed them what liberties, but often, Adam was sure Carl was lying when he said that he taken some girl on the grass and how she said she loved him. And they joked about someday, "ploughing a fallow field" and being the woman's first one; how wonderful to have a pure bride. But now he was older, no, an experienced woman was the best way to go. He had no desire for a simpering virgin bride. But as far as Sigrid, well, the sooner she learned, the better for them both.

He moved away from the window, ready to speak of their marriage and expectations, but Sigrid looked expectantly up at him, her eyes large. Adam paused. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes. Actually, I am." Sigrid sat straighter. "But before we go any further, I would well understand if you have second thoughts about me. If you do, I would appreciate you saying so. If we are to be partners, we should be honest with one another."

Adam chuckled. "Honest. Be careful what you ask for, Sigrid. Are you asking if I have second thoughts about you as my wife? If I do, what then? It's a little late to change anything." He didn't want to tell her that he had been dealing with second thoughts all morning.

"Not really too late. We could file for an annulment as we have yet to…." Sigrid blushed and looked down.

Adam smirked; at least they thought alike. "Consummate our marriage?"

"Yes." Sigrid pursed her lips.

"If that's what you want, now's the time," Adam said.

"What do you mean…do you mean an annulment or the…consummation?" Sigrid's pulse stepped up as Adam laughed aloud at her expression. The thought of now, here, in the middle of the day! She had been counting on the dark of night to hide her ineptness or displeasure or whatever she would feel.

Adam sat heavily on the bed opposite Sigrid, still chuckling "I mean the annulment. Once we're on the ship – well, then it's basically done and over. Now, you be honest and tell me what you want done. If you want to return, I'll hire a driver and send you back to Virginia City. But you have to say what you want. I won't have you bemoan your choice after the fact or punish me with sullen silence."

"Sullen? I'm not…it's just that our situation is awkward," Sigrid said. "Marriages have been made for less than economic gain – I know that – but as things stood, I hadn't much to call my own. Now, at least, I have a husband."

They looked at one another. "That may not be such a bargain. What if I turn out to be a bad husband?"

"My father gave me $300.00 – quite a bit of money to him. He told me to use it to return home if you mistreat me. Other than raising your hand to me, I don't know what makes a bad husband or a good one; I've never observed a marriage - happy or sad. Have you? I mean, since your father is a widower."

Adam paused. Memories of Inger and Marie came rushing back. Inger, tall and big-boned but gentle and loving with a smile that radiated goodness. She always deferred to "Ben". "Ben, if you think…if you want…please, allow me…" Adam knew his father loved Inger and he supposed for the small time they were married, it was a happy union. But Marie was different. She exuded a sexuality that floated about her like an aura. Adam often saw his father kissing Marie's neck and bosom when he thought they were alone, and Marie, her eyes closed, smiling as she enjoyed his caresses. And Sunday mornings, the two were not to be disturbed which left Adam to watch Hoss and Joe. Only Adam knew why their bedroom door was bolted.

He supposed the marriages were good, but for Adam, neither marriage was something he desired.

"My father was married to Hoss' and Joe's mothers for only a short time. I suppose he was happy—I never really thought about it at the time – only how it affected me."

"Since he was married, what, three times?" Adam replied, yes. "For him to marry so many times, his marriages must have been happy, at least for him. Do you think his wives were happy?"

Adam grinned. "I honestly don't know. But we might get along after all, as long as we don't have unreasonable expectations of one another." Adam stood up and put out a hand for her to take. "Let's go eat."

**~ 0 ~**

The rest of the day passed quickly. After lunch in a nearby restaurant - the hotel restaurant was under construction - the two strolled about Carson City, Sigrid with her arm through Adam's, while Adam discussed the new construction, pointing out how buildings were being erected with sturdier stuff than the original buildings.

"Some of this wood is from the Ponderosa; we fulfilled a large contract just six months ago. It doesn't matter if the building is brick or granite, they all require wood in their construction."

"I see," Sigrid said. She had been quiet, only asking a question when she didn't understand a term or phrase Adam used. "How did you learn so much about buildings?"

"I studied architecture in college."

"I find that unusual, that you would study that. I mean, there doesn't seem to be much to building a house, is there – a floor, four walls and a roof?"

"Yes, well…" Adam was offended by Sigrid's disparaging comment; he dropped her arm. Four walls and a roof. There was so much more to any building. One had to consider function as well as beauty. There was, in a well-planned house, an elegance that went beyond a floor, four walls and a roof. Adam pulled out his pocket watch; he found he was angry with Sigrid for her attitude, but then, he was also angry with the railroad line and whatever destroyed the tracks as well as the hotel for not having better accommodations. He was just frustrated and angry. "It's almost 6:00," he said brusquely. "Let's head back to the hotel."

Once back in their room, they took turns washing at the small sink and Adam cursed at not having a bath in the room.

"There's a bath in the hall. Perhaps it's…"

"Perhaps you should just be quiet," Adam said sharply and went to stand at the window to look out and watch the world as it went about its business.

Sigrid sighed. She pulled yarn and knitting needles from her valise. It was growing dark so Adam had lit the lamp. He glanced over as Sigrid sat on her bed, her back against the wood headboard and silently knitted.

"What are you knitting?"

"A pair of socks for my father but…I suppose now they're for you."

Adam gave a scornful snort. Socks. He marries her and gets socks for his trouble. He pulled off his boots and jacket, loosened his tie. and lay on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

Adam mulled over the fact there were two of them and two beds – and one bed wasn't wide enough to accommodate two people comfortably. So much for consummation. Adam listened to the muffled clicking of the two thin knitting needles and the sound began to annoy him. Click…click…click.

"Can you stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"That goddamn knitting. That noise is…" He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his boots. "Let's go eat now."

The ate silently in the same restaurant where they had lunch. It was bustling with chatting customers and was noisy with kitchen sounds as well; there was no need to talk except to the waitress who took their order. Nevertheless, halfway through the meal, Sigrid had a question.

"Where did you get my wedding ring?' she asked, looking at her left hand.

"Why? Don't you like it?"

"Yes. I just wondered if…"

"It was my mother's. I have two things of hers – the ring and her music box. The music box is back home."

"Oh, I see," Sigrid went back to eating but Adam noticed she glanced at her ring often. It had slid on Sigrid's finger easily – even a bit loose - not enough to fall off but not a firm fit. Maybe, Adam thought, he'd have another band made for Sigrid. One day.

"How about dessert? We have apple pie, raisin pie and layer cake," the waitress asked after the meal was over. The dark-haired man had been irritable, complaining the coffee wasn't hot enough and that the beef was overcooked; he asked for rare and received well-done. But the lovely young woman sat calmly and ate and took no part in the exchange between patron and employee – actually took it all in stride. But as for dessert, the man deferred to the young woman, obviously his wife, and she replied, no, she was quite full and smiled, saying the meal was very good. The man just grunted, then paid leaving a generous tip. The waitress found it odd that as unhappy as he had been about almost every aspect of the meal, he left her so much money. But there was no telling about people.

~ 0 ~

Sigrid returned from the hall lavatory. There was running water in the room but there was only one water closet on each floor and she had taken advantage of the privacy of a locked lavatory door to change into her sleeping gown. She came back to the room wearing her gown and light robe, carrying her valise.

Since Sigrid was ready for sleep, she looked at Adam who sat on his bed, strumming his guitar as if attempting to find a tune; there wasn't much else to do. But seeing his "wife" in her sleeping gown made Adam's thoughts run to relieving some of the tedium of waiting by engaging in what he hoped could be mutually satisfying sex. After all, they were married and a man had a right to his wife's body. But once Sigrid dropped to her knees, and not at his feet, folding her hands in prayer, Adam sighed, propped his guitar against the wall. and lay down on the mattress to wait for sleep. He decided to undress once he was back from making a trip to the lavatory.

When he returned to the room, Sigrid was lying facing the wall, her back to him. Adam turned down the lamp and slipped between the sheets to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He listened to the pocket watch ticking off the seconds and a sigh rose deep from his chest, escaping him.

Sigrid rolled over and sat up. "You have been in ill humor all day, husband."

"My name is Adam. Why the hell won't you call me by my name?"

"If it will improve your mood, I will, Adam."

"And I'm in 'ill humor' all day, it's because we're stuck in Carson City when we should be on our way to San Francisco. And this isn't much of a marriage, is it? I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to ask you to marry me – we're not… I'm sorry, Sigrid. Forgive me. I'm taking everything out on you. None of this is your fault."

"No," Sigrid quietly said. "I told you I knew what a marriage entails but I really don't. All I know is that a man has certain expectations of the woman he marries, and I…." Sigrid pushed aside the coverlet and sheets and stood on the floor between the two beds. She pulled her simple cotton gown off over her head and tossed it on her bed. "I don't know if I'm pretty or desirable but I am your wife and I…well, if you care to have me…"

"Oh, I care to," Adam said, his breathing harsh in his throat. And reaching out for her hands, Adam gently pulled Sigrid down and into his arms. "And, Sigrid, you are lovely and quite desirable." She started to speak but his mouth closed hot over hers and her words were swallowed up.

Adam was awake most of the night, Sigrid lying with her small head on his chest as he held her close. But Sigrid was woefully inexperienced in the ways of lovemaking and yet she bravely endured him, at least that was what Adam felt-that he and his hunger for her were being bravely borne and that Sigrid was hoping it would soon all be over.

He had fallen asleep early in the morning, around 1:00, and it was filled with bad dreams Adam couldn't remember upon waking but they left him with a sense of uneasiness. He glanced at his watch on the table and saw it was slightly past 4:00. Adam knew sleep was now lost to him, so he dressed, and being careful not to wake Sigrid who had gone back to her own bed sometime in the night, he left the hotel room and walked the streets. He passed the silent construction sites and with a critical eye, appraised the new buildings. The scent of fresh-planed pine suddenly moved him. He took in a deep breath. How could he leave all this? His father needed him, if for nothing else, to count the money that was rolling in from selling Ponderosa pine. His whole family, including Hop Sing, who received a share of the profits, and a new relative, it seemed, on every birthday, well, all of them would soon be incredibly richer than they were now. And he was leaving…leaving it all behind.

Adam stood looking at the half-built bank – at least that what's the placard said - "Site of the new Carson City Federal Bank," – and surmised it would be built as burglar-proof as its vault. Concrete had been poured with a double layer where Adam assumed the vault would be. And all the money it would hold, all printed by the Carson City mint, would make this city the hub of all Nevada enterprises. And all the money exchanging hands, much of it coming into his father's hands, would fill the coffers.

But the idea of being wealthier beyond the dreams of avarice didn't really appeal to Adam. He was going to Australia for the adventure. And dragging Sigrid with him – her and her knitting needles. If he had made a mistake in any way, it was in marrying Sigrid. After the night, he was sure.

"You were right, Pa. I should have married Mary Dawson."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

As the sun rose, Adam checked his pocket watch again; it was close to 7:00. He headed to the train depot to check the schedule. Maybe the train would be early. Maybe. But the train wasn't early.

"Not expectin' it 'til about 5:00 or 6:00. I suggest you get here 'bout 4:00 though." The clerk said. "It might be early. Just might." Adam snarled his thanks and headed back to the hotel. He rubbed his chin – he needed a shave and to wash. But he didn't want to face Sigrid after last night. Adam didn't understand; after all his experience with women, he had no idea what to say to the young woman waiting for her husband. It hadn't been Sigrid's fault; how could he expect her to know anything? She had been the dutiful wife, allowing him to do as he liked, to sweat over her, and she bore up under him, but he… Adam inwardly cringed. He had known better nights when he had behaved far differently, but those nights were with women who wanted nothing from him but the money. Knowing that it was a mere transaction and once he paid it was all behind him brought a certain lightness to those situations. But this…this was a marriage and as much as he hated to admit it, he had been selfish last night. Now, he considered, what would he say to Sigrid? How could he make things up to her? That is, if she was still there. It could be Sigrid took her $300.00 and went home to her father who would come after him that same afternoon with a double-aught shotgun looking to emasculate him.

Adam opened the door to the hotel room and Sigrid was sitting in her traveling suit on the side of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. She looked up at him and Adam's heart broke at her expression; she was bereft.

"You came back." She barely managed to get out the words.

"Of course, I did. Did you think I…" But Adam didn't finish. Sigrid burst into tears, covering her face. "Sigrid…" Adam dropped to one knee before her. "Please, don't cry. Please!"

She raised her head, tears coursing down her cheeks. "I thought you'd left me…that you had just walked away from me after last night and were never coming back! You've been so angry about everything and now… ."

"Sigrid, I…" He touched her cheek, attempting to comfort her. She gripped his hand with both of hers.

"I know I must have been a disappointment to you. I…I just…oh, Adam, I'll try to be a good wife, I just don't know what to do!" And she sobbed anew.

He rose and sat next to her on the bed, pulling her next to him, his cheek against her hair. "Oh, no, it's not you. I've been bad-tempered and mean and…and don't cry, darling, don't cry." The endearment came surprisingly easily. Yes, Sigrid was darling, and dear, and he was a bully and a brute and a bad-tempered lout. "I wouldn't leave you, Sigrid. Look at me." He tilted up her chin so they could look at one another. "See, this just shows how little we know each other, how little you know me. Why I'd never go off and leave my guitar behind?"

Sigrid stopped crying, surprised, and then, noticing Adam's devilish smile, she broke into laughter between sobs. "Oh, Adam…" Sigrid threw her arms about his neck and her held her close. Yes, Sigrid was warm and smelled like violets and he liked feeling her next to him. And he felt his blood pound in his ears, heating his blood.

"Now that's better. Let me see you smile - and use this." He had pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Sigrid who dabbed at her tears. "Looks like you're stuck with me, Sigrid, whether you like it or not. I have to confess I'm hard to live with. After all, I'm used to living with men my whole life, if not at home, at school and in the army, just rough, crude men. So, living with a woman, a wife, well, that's going to take some getting used to. But in about 40 years or so, I might get the hang of it." He was rewarded with a tremulous smile. "And, Sigrid, as bad-tempered as I might occasionally be, as a husband, I'll always take care of you. I promise that."

"Yes, Adam. I promise I'll learn how to be a good wife. I already know how to cook and bake." Sigrid sniffed.

"You know," Adam said. "We have a long day of waiting ahead of us and I was thinking, if you don't mind putting off breakfast for an hour or two…"

Sigrid smiled and reaching down, slowly unbuttoned her jacket. Adam grinned; his bride was learning fast.

~ 0 ~

Adam and Sigrid waited at the depot, having had an early dinner or a late supper. He was determined to be more attuned to Sigrid, more attentive and considerate, so when she shyly took his hand as they sat together on a bench, he couldn't help but be touched and closed his fingers around her gloved hand. He knew she was remembering that morning and their intimacy. The bed wouldn't hold two comfortably but entwined with one another, it had sufficed as it had the previous night.

A man with a pushcart came through the station and Sigrid craned her head to see about Adam; a sweet odor filled the air as the pushcart came nearer.

"Would you like some candied pecans?" Adam asked.

"I've never had any before but they certainly smell good," Sigrid replied.

Adam grinned and paid ten cents for a paper cone filled with hot candied pecans. "Here," he said, handing the cone to Sigrid. "Now pull off your glove or you'll have the coating all over the fingertips." He smiled as Sigrid tasted the confection and offered him some.

"I'll have a few," he said, taking some off the top. As he watched Sigrid enjoy the treat, Adam couldn't understand the complexity of his feelings. He felt desire for Sigrid, the desire a man feels for a woman but in a manner, he felt protective and indulgent the way a father might his child. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was just introducing Sigrid to the world and yet wanting to protect her from it. Was that the way a man was supposed to feel about his wife?

"I've never ridden on a train before; it's a little scary. I mean with it moving so fast and it's so big and metallic – like a gun almost. Have you taken many trains?" Sigrid asked.

"More than I can count, actually. I took a train part of the way back east to school. I don't know how many times I had to change trains. I finally made it to Boston after a few days. I also took a train to New Orleans to clean up some inheritance mess for Joe. And in the Army, it seemed we were always piling on trains and then being left off at different places – usually the middle of nowhere."

"What was it like – the war, I mean?" Sigrid stopped eating. She noticed her husband's expression change, his face seeming to close-up while he remembered. "I'm sorry, Adam. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no. That's all right, but I'd rather not talk about it."

Sigrid left it at that. The war must have been worse than she ever thought.

As they waited, two other trains came from the west as there were three separate tracks. but darkness was beginning to fall when a high-pitched train whistle pierced the air. Had it been earlier, they would have seen the smoke from the approaching train, but now it disappeared into the surrounding twilight.

Soon Adam and Sigrid were on their way to San Francisco, and Sigrid's apprehension was obvious.

"I'm sorry we don't have a compartment; I took what was available on short notice but this is no Pullman," Adam said to Sigrid as she sat beside him.

"What's a Pullman?"

"It's a line of trains that have dining cars and sleeper cars – very elegant."

"This is fine. Really. I can't see spending money to sit alone in a rolling room. But what if nature calls?"

"At the back of the car," Adam said, motioning with his head in the direction. "Just don't fall into it – you'll land on the tracks."

"What do you mean? The hole – the opening - goes…"

"Right onto the tracks."

"And I could fall through?"

Adam laughed. "No, it's not that big a hole. It was a joke. Now don't worry so much." He touched Sigrid's arm as comfort but she barely smiled. Adam knew she would have more than enough to worry about once they reached Australia – no reason to start now.

Sigrid tightly held her reticule in her lap, her valise strapped next to Adam's carpetbag on the rack above her head with the guitar case. She didn't look at Adam, was far too anxious for conversation and looked out the window. Her stomach roiled and suddenly she realized she didn't take well to traveling. The motion of the car kept her off balance so she removed her bonnet, closed her eyes, leaned back and rested her head.

Adam knew by her action, he was being dismissed. Suddenly though, he wanted to talk, wanted the company but Sigrid needed the silence. In that way, they were very different. But Adam had to smile – begrudgingly - Sigrid had beaten him at his own game and he hadn't even known he was playing; he had begun to fall in love with her, to delight in her voice and her profile, noting how her cheek and jaw flowed gently into her neck. She was lovely. But just like that, after laying with him and letting him _indulge_ himself, Sigrid had the upper hand. Funny how that happened. Adam considered how his father had always been around Marie, always deferential, always adoring and maybe he was turning into that type of husband, always sniffing after his wife.

Adam took a deep breath and settled in for the ride to San Francisco. After another three hours had passed, the dome lights were dimmed and soon the others riding in the car were sleeping. Adam glanced over at Sigrid, her face turned away; she was asleep. He sighed, closed his eyes, and the rhythmic rocking of the train and the sound of the wheels on the tracks soon lulled him to sleep. And the night passed as quickly as the landscape outside the windows.

"Adam. Adam."

A gentle tug of his sleeve and the repetition of his voice woke Adam. It was early morning and he was having trouble waking; the past two sleepless nights had caught up with him. Sigrid was lightly shaking him awake. The brakes hissed as the train slowed, finally stopping under a water tower.

"What is it?' His head felt thick and Sigrid was leaning toward him.

"The conductor just came through and said we'd be stopped for about 40 minutes and could get breakfast in town. Are you hungry?"

Adam rubbed his face; he felt the stubble on his cheeks. He needed a shave again and was surprised he had slept so heavily, but he was hungry.

"I'd kill for a cup of coffee and some hot biscuits. Let's go."

It wasn't much of a town – mainly a water-stop for the train - with three restaurants. Adam and Sigrid debarked with the rest of the passengers, less than a hundred people, and chose a restaurant. Adam figured they were interchangeable, all offering the same fare as all three had faded wooden signs advertising bottomless cups of coffee. Hand-written signs in the windows proclaimed sausage, eggs and three pancakes for $1.00. It was high but apparently the three owners decided not to compete and underprice, but to settle on overpricing.

Breakfast was palatable to Adam but Sigrid whispered that the coffee tasted like mud, and she feared the sausage was rancid and the eggs were questionable, in the least. But Adam told her to salt the eggs and if she didn't want hers, he'd take them. The sausage he also decided to avoid, but the pancakes, butter and syrup were decent and it all managed to fill him. When Adam asked the waitress, an unpleasant woman who had impatiently asked if they wanted the "special", how far they were from San Francisco, she replied, "Too far for it to matter to me."

Once they boarded the train again, Sigrid gazed out the window, waiting to be on their way.

"What's so fascinating out there?" Adam asked.

"I was just wondering if Queensland looks anything like this." She looked at him then. "And our house? We do have one, don't we?" Something akin to panic stirred in her voice.

"Well, Caleb said we could have the house his previous partner and his wife lived in, said we were welcome to it although it needs work." The train started to pull away and Sigrid gripped the arms of her seat as she looked at him, leaning toward him.

"But what is it like?"

"I honestly don't know, but I would think if it had a floor, four walls and a roof, you'd be happy." Adam closely watched Sigrid. Did she understand his reference? She did.

Sigrid's face changed to an expression of annoyance. "Well, with your college degree in architecture, I'm sure you can make it the showcase of Queensland."

As she sat back in her seat and turned her head away from Adam and toward the window, a small smile touched his lips. His bride was beautiful – more beautiful, it seemed, with every passing moment, especially in comparison to others, and apparently, she was just as sarcastic as he was.

Adam settled down and closed his eyes, his hat over them. He would be able to catch up on his sleep now that they were moving again.

"Adam?" With one finger, he pushed up his hat and glanced over at Sigrid. "Why did your friend's partner leave?"

Caleb's letter had contained some vague language when he referred to his former partner, Mark Flynn. There had been something about the man's wife having to leave and Adam thought it odd, but he didn't want to worry Sigrid.

"Something about…I think it was homesickness." Adam decided that would suffice.

"Why did your friend ask you to join him? Were you good friends?"

"Why are you choosing now to interrogate me? You thinking of leaving me?"

"We haven't left the country yet. If I did return to Virginia City, would I have access to your money, to your family's since I am your wife?"

Adam scrutinized Sigrid's face. At least she was candid. "I'm sure my father would see you're taken care of. Are you leaving?"

"No. I was just wondering. But why would your friend want someone with an education in architecture?"

"You think my course of study was useless, don't you?"

"No, I didn't imply that. I've just been thinking that it's odd your friend would ask you to join him. Is it because you have money?"

Adam snorted to make his disdain obvious. "No, it's because he knows that the study of architecture includes many things such as building archways and supports for porches and inner walls– the same ideas are in mining. He also knows I'm involved in the mining interests on the Ponderosa – the shoring, the blasting. Now, do you have any other questions or can I get a nap."

"Well, I have more questions, but they can wait." Sigrid looked back out the train window and Adam, with a roll of his eyes, settled in to try to nap. He had to remind himself that Sigrid wasn't an annoying brother or a disapproving father; her future was now joined to his. After all, there were many nights ahead and he didn't want to face her disinterested back in their bed.

As they rode through the rest of the day and the nightfall, the conductor coming through with a basket of sandwiches and apples for dinner – hardly what Adam wanted but he was hungry. Sigrid occasionally asked how much farther it was to San Francisco and Adam's impatience and annoyance with things showed when he answered that they would be there when they were, and it couldn't be soon enough to please him. He had removed his tie and loosened his weskit but he yearned to be in casual clothes and well-worn boots instead of the polished leather oxfords pinching his feet. Having worn a military uniform for three years, Adam had eschewed formal clothes once he was home, but as his father had said, a man can't marry wearing a cowboy hat and boots with horse shit clinging to the soles. But he still longed for the soft cotton shirt, dungarees and his familiar trail coat rolled into his carpetbag. And before his trunk was stowed away, he would find his well-worn boots. He had no desire to travel the rest of the way to Australia dressed in his best suit. And he longed to be able to walk about and stretch his legs.

The train pulled into San Francisco at 9:16, according to Adam's pocket watch, and amid the confusion of passengers debarking and milling about the already crowded terminal, Adam managed to secure their luggage while Sigrid obediently waited where she was told her to wait. And when she saw Adam approaching her, she felt swallowed up by a wave of relief.

"You're back; I'm so glad." Sigrid moved to him. "Are we staying the night in a hotel?"

"Yes, now listen to me." Adam held Sigrid by her upper arms. "I'm going to put you in a hack to take you to the Queen Anne Hotel. Get us a room, one with a bath." He dropped his hands to pick up his carpetbag. "Here. Take my bag and guitar with you and…" He felt around in his pocket. He put two silver pieces in her hand. "Give one to the driver when he unloads the luggage and the other to the bellman when he delivers it to the room. Give them no more than this. After all, they might get the wrong idea if you start fishing down inside your blouse for more money." Adam grinned and Sigrid huffed; he had teased her earlier about tucking her $300.00 inside her chemise. "I'm going to the docks and find the captain of The Alliance; I want to talk to him before tomorrow." Adam kissed her cheek and raised a hand to secure one of hacks waiting at the train depot.

"Adam, wait." He turned to Sigrid's worried face. "I've never…I mean, I've never left Virginia City. I don't know that I can do this?"

"Sigrid, listen to me. You watched me get a room in Carson City, right?"

"Yes, but…you're leaving me alone to do it? Do women alone…I mean will they think I'm…" Sigrid looked down at her gloved hands and noticed her reticule swinging from her wrist. What if someone robbed her or the hackney driver was dishonest? What if the hack became lost in the large city? And what if something happened to Adam and he never returned? And what if the hotel clerk thought she was a woman of ill repute?

"Sigrid, listen. The hack will take you to the hotel. Then tip the necessary people. Remember, you're a married woman, Mrs. Adm Cartwright. Write Mr. and Mrs. Adam Cartwright in the register and ask for a room with a bath. It's that easy. Understand?" Sigrid nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Adam realized she was truly terrified. But as with her marital "bedding", there was a first time for everything. "I've stayed at the Queen Anne many times. They might very well recognize my name and give you one of the best suites. All right?"

"All right, Adam." Sigrid's voice dropped but she pulled herself up, ready to do what was needed.

Adam gave directions to the hack driver and paid the fare so Sigrid wouldn't have to. As the cab drove away, Sigrid leaned out to wave at Adam. And suddenly he wondered if the clerk would smirk at "Mrs. Adam Cartwright". After all, he had taken quite a few "Mrs. Cartwrights" to the hotel many times before.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

"Captain Ashton?" Adam raised his voice above the loud piano playing, raucous laughter, and the sound of glass mugs and shot glasses being slammed table tops, ready to be filled again with cheap whiskey or beer.

"That I am. And who the living hell are you?" The captain was dandling a bar girl on his knee and she kept an ever-ready bottle in her hand, filling his empty glass. _He's so glassy-eyed drunk, he wouldn't even know his own mother if she stood before him; figure he won't remember me from a few wires._ "Hope you're ready to sign on, lad, even though you look like no sailor who ever pissed off the side of the deck. I pay a flat rate and am honest. At least in that regard!" The captain laughed loudly and leaning over, licked the bargirl's neck, making her laugh as well.

"Captain, I'm Adam Cartwright. I was told I could probably find you here."

"Just write that name down when you sign on; no one cares who's lookin' for you, lad." Captain Ashton looked Adam over. "You look to be strong and hale. See my purser – the man doesn't drink or he'd be here. He'll sign you on. My ship is The Alliance, the finest ship anchored in the bay. Now let me be to enjoy my whiskey and this piece on my knee."

Adam dropped into an empty chair at the small wooden table where Captain Ashton sat. What he wanted to do was grab the drunken man by his collar and toss him across the room; he'd pay attention them. "I bought passage on your ship for me and my wife. The ship leaves tomorrow for Australia – right?"

"What's this, lad? Cartwright…oh, I remember something now. Yes, Cartwright." Captain Ashton quickly swiveled and the barmaid, who had a precarious seat to start with, fell onto the floor. The captain laughed, but struggling to regain her footing, the barmaid proceeded to call him a drunken bastard who stank like rotted fish and stale whiskey. "Now, girl, if you washed between your legs, you wouldn't stink like rotted fish yourself!"

Adam couldn't help but smile at the insult, but he did have business so when the Captain raised his hand to signal for another bottle, Adam stopped him. "I need to know about tomorrow. I need confirmation of our passage and the time we depart."

"Lad, all right. Now listen and trust my word. I have a cabin for you and your missus – the best one we have - on account of the woman, you know. Ah, the fairer sex! I trust she'll stay out of the way; a woman on board is bad luck and she best not whistle. You know what they say about a whistlin' woman."

"Yes, they're supposed to be bad luck. But Captain, …" Captain Ashton, with his drunken, slurred speech was angering Adam. He was tired and hungry and wanted to be in his room at the Queen Anne, not trying to talk to a drunk.

"Whistlin' brings about a storm as does a woman on board – all bad luck – so a whistlin' woman would soon be tossed overboard into the waves. But now – ah, a bare-breasted woman calms the seas! So, if your missus will just strip off her top and stand at the bow, we'll have a calm voyage the whole way!" The captain roared with laughter but Adam wasn't amused.

"What time should we be on board? When do you raise anchor?"

"You are persistent, aren't you, lad? Well, be on board by 2:00 in the afternoon. That's close to when we're haulin' off. All cargo should be loaded by then. Now, if you want a drink, I welcome the company. If not, shove off and see you when I'm sober."

"You sure as hell better be sober tomorrow," Adam said, standing up. He looked down at Captain Ashton and wondered about such a long voyage under a man like him. But he had seen many men who drank until they were cross-eyed but yet, the next day they were sober. He hoped Ashton was one of those.

~ 0 ~

"Welcome back, Mr. Cartwright. So good to see you again. I gave the Missus suite 312 – your favorite – western exposure." The desk clerk smiled knowingly as he handed Adam the second key, remembering Adam always asked for windows facing the west to enable him to sleep longer with whomever he brought upstairs.

"Thank you and she is 'Mrs.' Cartwright."

"Of course, she is." The desk clerk winked conspiratorially. "And a pretty one too – not as flashy as the last one."

"No, she really…" Adam stopped trying to convince the desk clerk that Sigrid was his wife. After all, he would more than likely never return to the hotel. "Send up a light dinner – beef bourguignonne and a salad. Also, a bottle of nice wine – perhaps a Cabernet. Put it on my bill."

"Anything you say, Mr. Cartwright. Potatoes or toast?"

"Toast – thick slices."

The desk clerk nodded and then watched as Adam climbed the grand stairway at the far side of the lobby. The man was lucky to always have such lovely females for company on his many trips to San Francisco but this one tonight, she was a bit nervous about securing the room. But then, it was usually Adam Cartwright himself who signed the ledger and the women always stood one step behind him, practically panting to reach the room.

The Queen Anne did not, as a rule, accept such behavior. Trollops were definitely not allowed but Mr. Cartwright only brought "expensive" women and always comported himself properly. And whose business was it if he went through a variety of "Mrs. Cartwrights"?

But tonight, Mr. Cartwright badly needed a shave and his suit was rumpled; he was not his dapper self. The clerk wondered if Adam Cartwright really was married to the lovely young woman who had signed the ledger. The clerk shrugged it off. Perhaps that meant the maids wouldn't have anything to gossip about when they changed the sheets in suite 312. So much the better.

Sigrid was in her robe, combing out her wet hair when Adam came in. She put down the brush and stood up.

"I was beginning to worry…" She was learning to decipher his moods from his face, from the set of his jaw alone. "Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. It just took awhile to find the captain. My," he said grinning, "but you look like a mermaid who's escaped from the sea."

Sigrid blushed. "I had a bath and, oh, it's wonderful! Wait until you see the bathtub! And all the hot water you could ever want and big, fluffy towels! And there's a water closet and – I've never seen anything like it!"

Adam chuckled at her excitement, tossed his hat on the writing desk in the corner and removed his tie and jacket. "I've been here before." He untucked his shirt and began to unbutton it. "First, I'm taking a bath and shaving. I ordered dinner – should be here in a half hour so open the door when it arrives; it'll be on a cart." He pulled off his shirt and sat on the side of the bed, pulling off his boots. "Do you have a hand mirror?"

"Yes. Why?"

"So I can prop it up and shave in the bath."

"Suppose…I shave you"' Sigrid asked, slightly smiling, moving toward him. "And scrub your back."

Adam grinned, reaching out for her. "I knew a wife would be good for something."

~ 0 ~

Sigrid's hair lay loose about her head on Adam's chest. She was tired and felt sleep creeping up on her, but something had been bothering her for a while. It was one of those questions that she had been fearful to ask.

"Adam?"

"What?" Despite his unsettling meeting with Captain Ashton, Adam's mind was finally allowing him to sleep. And both his hungers had been satisfied, first with dinner and a wonderful bottle of wine, and then with Sigrid and her delightful body. He didn't want to answer questions – not this late. Besides, he may not know the answer and even if he did, it may not be what Sigrid wanted to hear.

"Do you consider us married? I mean truly married or are we…."

"We have a marriage certificate, all legal and binding. We're married." He sighed. Maybe now he could sleep, but when Sigrid sat up, Adam knew there was more. Damn.

"My father wouldn't come to our 'wedding' because we weren't married in the church. He said that it wouldn't be a sanctified union."

Adam propped himself up on his elbows. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I know that, like you said, our marriage is legal but…I don't know." Sigrid dropped her head. "Sometimes, I feel as if I'm no better than a paid woman to you." She raised her face and looked at her husband. "Do you have affection for me?"

"Are you asking me if I love you?"

"No. I am not that naïve as to believe people fall in love that quickly."

"Then you have no love for me," Adam said. That conclusion was logical based on what Sigrid had just said. He could get out of the trap she was baiting – if she was. Sigrid may not be as crafty as he was assuming.

"Love? No, but I find I do like you - most of the time. But do you feel we are married, truly married?"

"Yes. I feel we're married and it's legally recognized. As for how I feel about you, I like you as well, Sigrid. I think you are strong in many ways, but most of all, I trust you. I know our marriage isn't sanctioned by the church so, does that mean we're cohabiting in sin? Not to me. I don't need whatever God you believe in to approve of us. Is it that important to you?"

"I don't know, Adam. I do know that with the way I've been behaving, the things we've been doing together, well, sometimes I'll be in the middle of pleasuring you and feel as if I'm..."

"Sigrid, let's go to sleep. We can talk about this some other time. Tomorrow's going to be busy." Adam lay back down, hoping Sigrid would agree.

"Goodnight, Adam."

Sigrid bent down and Adam felt her lips on his. He put out one arm to pull her to him but Sigrid gently pulled away. After a few moments, Adam opened his eyes hearing a soft murmur. Sigrid was praying. Adam closed his eyes and wondered if she was praying for him.

~ 0 ~

"This is your cabin. As I told you, Mr. Cartwright, this is the first time we're taking on passengers, but this is a nice cabin – and it's been cleaned."

"Yes, I understand but this isn't what I expected." Adam glanced at Sigrid who seemed shocked by what she saw. It was a small area with two berths, one above the other, against the far wall. The slanted outside wall had two windows, side by side, letting in light but a lamp hung from above the small table in the middle to be lit after dark. Two upholstered wooden chairs sat about the table and a picture of a clipper ship adorned one wall. On the opposite wall was a mirror, its silver backing peeled away in some spots due to the corrosive salt air, causing a splotchy reflection. Below it was a wash stand and a narrow closet was at the foot at the berths. Underneath the bottom berth were drawers.

"We're to stay here a month?" Sigrid asked, looking wide-eyed at Adam but Captain Ashton answered her.

"Well, a bit over two weeks out, we stop at the Gilbert Islands* for a day to take on fresh water and fruit for the men – and of course, now that we have a few, the passengers can debark as well – get your land legs back."

"Gilbert Islands?" Adam said. "I'm not familiar with them?"

"Just a few islands, some atolls and such. I stay away from the main island as they don't welcome strangers; hostile and they'll kill you with weapons lined with shark teeth. I used to stop at the Sandwich Islands – Hawaii - but lost too many men."

"They were killed?" Sigrid asked, appalled at the idea that a man could be murdered just by stopping at one of the islands. Probably cannibals who slaughtered and ate the men; she had heard once about cannibals.

The captain laughed. "Hell, no, Missus! They stayed behind. Too much like paradise. I would have to round them up and drive them back to the ship, as many as I could but there were always a few who hid off with some little gal wearin' a sarong so's I couldn't haul them away. They would've been beat right roundly had I found them."

"The Lotos-Eaters," Adam said.

"What was that about a lotus?" Captain Ashton asked.

"Nothing. Just a something from mythology." Adam scanned the room and shook his head. "Any other passengers?"

"Just a Mr. Hightower. Wants to start a school for Aborigine children. Damn fool."

"Why?" Sigrid asked. "Because he wants to start a school?"

"Oh, no, Ma'am. It's that he wants to teach people who see no need for it. They already have their own writin' and such. They don't want us comin' in and teachin' them our ways. Now, will there be anything else? I have a crew to manage and a ship to tend to. Raising anchor in about a half hour so if you want off, now's the time."

"No, we'll stay." He looked at Sigrid who had walked over to one of the windows. She swung around to face the captain and Adam.

"Where's the bathroom?" Sigrid asked.

"Oh, that. Well, ma'am, we have a head for the men but bein' a lady and all, there's a chamber pot in that closet. No maid though. You'll have to empty it yourself."

"What about washing? No bath?" Sigrid couldn't even imagine a month in such close quarters without a bath. She would reek by the end of the voyage and couldn't even imagine how Adam might smell.

"There's a wash stand. Fresh water will be delivered to your cabin each morning but we don't have enough for washin'. That'd be a waste. You can bathe at the islands – there are ponds and such if you're so inclined. But as for on-board, not unless you want to be hosed down along with the decks. Now, dinner will be at 6:00 and I suggest you take dinner in your cabin. You're a pretty one, Mrs. Cartwright, if you don't mind my sayin', and the men, well, they might take a fancy to you. Or they might think you're bad luck. Either way, it's not good."

Captain Ashton spoke to Adam. "I hope you can see that, sir. It's best she not have anything to do with the crew."

"Yes, I understand," Adam said.

And with that, the captain left closing the door. It was then that Sigrid was fully aware of how small the cabin was. She sat in one of the chairs and Adam placed his guitar case on the upper berth; someone had earlier placed their luggage inside, their trunks safely stowed in the hold.

"Oh, Adam. A month in here. A month. I'll lose my mind." She covered her mouth with one hand.

"Sigrid!" He held her face in his hands and seemed so calm; her panic lessened. "Everything will be fine. You'll be fine. The time will go by quick enough and soon we'll be in Australia. You can count off the days."

"Like men in prison do," Sigrid said, "marking off each day with hashmarks on the wall." She looked about the cabin.

Adam stood straight and looked about. Sigrid would think of it that way, as if in a prison. "I'd hoped for better accommodations but actually, this isn't that bad. Here, let me open one of the windows. We're on the northeast side so we should get the trade winds blowing in. It'll make things more pleasant."

Adam opened one halfway and felt the breeze stir his hair, smelled the sea and a thrill of excitement ran through him. He considered that things could be worse and smiled to himself. Mary Dawson and her three children in a space this small? Mary would have gathered her brood and marched off down the gangplank and he would sail alone all the way. And probably glad of it.

*The Gilbert Islands are what is known today as Kiribati.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Doctor Beaumont examined a pale and sweating Sigrid, tossing about in the bottom berth wearing only her chemise, a sheet drawn to her waist.

"She was knitting but as soon as we left the dock and headed out to open water, she became ill." Adam was anxious and it showed, but the doctor was calm and tried to ignore Adam's nervous energy which seemed to charge the room. "She complained of a headache and started vomiting - barely made the chamber pot. She disrobed and laid down and we thought she'd recover after a bit but she didn't. After an hour, well, that's when I went for you."

"Now, Mrs. Cartwright, please lie still," Doctor Beaumont said in his best bedside manner. Sigrid had been moving about hoping a different position might resolve her intense headache and nausea but nothing had helped. The doctor stood up from the chair he had pulled beside the bed, looked down at his patient once more and then faced her upset husband.

"It is what we call, mal de mer."

"Seasickness. I know what's wrong but what can you do for her?"

"Perhaps some ginger tea. It has occasionally worked to settle the stomach. The headache, I could prescribe some laudanum but I do not like to give it unless it is necessary. We do not want a healthy woman to end up an addict when we make port in Australia."

"Ginger tea? That's all you have to offer? Something that only occasionally works?" Adam knew about ships' doctors. The were often men who drank or were addicts themselves or had a habit of killing their patients or left great debt behind to be reconciled by their abandoned wives. These men often signed on to escape the law.

"I also recommend some crystallized ginger and will send some over. But the only cure for mal de mer is time. "

"So, my wife has to lie here sick until it wears off. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, some people never overcome it. I sincerely hope Mrs. Cartwright isn't one of them."

"So, what now?" Adam was suppressing his anger against this man who was deferential and yet, Adam thought he detected a touch of disdain for the wealthy passengers.

"Keep giving her fluids – even if she can't keep them down for long; becoming dehydrated and such, well, there can be cardiac issues resulting from it. Also, as odd as it may sound, a little salt would be beneficial. As I said, I will send some ginger tea and some crystallized ginger. Don't give it to her all at one time. Let her sip the tea and on occasion, eat the ginger until her stomach settles. I will put in an order that she receive broth for dinner; it contains salt and hopefully, if she sips it, it will stay down. I can do no more for the moment."

"Fine." Adam knew he needed the doctor's good will, if for nothing else, Sigrid's sake. "Thank you."

The doctor gave a small bow and left the cabin. Adam had opened both cabin windows in hopes the cool breeze would help Sigrid recover. She was still restless, small groans escaping on occasion, and Adam was worried. He went and wet the flannel again to lay on her forehead.

Without opening her eyes, Sigrid weakly said, "I'm sorry, Adam. I should have known this would happen from how I felt on the train. I never felt quite settled there as well; I guess that's why I couldn't eat breakfast that day we stopped in that little town."

"It's not your fault, Sigrid – I think it's common, and you won't die from this."

"If I did, I'd feel a lot better."

Adam smiled; he hoped he was right, that she wouldn't die from any aspect of this 'mal de mer'. And he impatiently waited for the ginger tea to arrive.

~ 0 ~

The doctor gave Sigrid a dose of laudanum as neither the tea nor the ginger settled her stomach but came back up with a vengeance. After that, she had been weakly vomiting but now, the laudanum calmed her. She slowly drifted off to sleep while both Adam and the doctor watched, the doctor sitting by the berth, taking her pulse every few minutes.

Finally, the doctor rose and picked up his bag to leave. But it wasn't that easy; Adam said there had to be something else he could do. Sigrid couldn't just lie sleeping for a whole month.

"Mr. Cartwright, I well understand your anxiety over your wife's illness but as with all things, time will tell. Many young men sign on and then, once we're out, they are hit with the mal de mer…"

"It's seasickness – just call it that! Giving it the French name doesn't make the vomiting any more romantic."

The doctor sighed. "Very well, Mr. Cartwright. The ill sailors do not have the luxury of sleeping through the nausea and headache of seasickness – they must continue to work until their constitution becomes acclimated. I gave your wife the laudanum mainly to calm you, not her."

"To calm me? Look, Dr. Beaumont, I don't know if you're a serious doctor or a charlatan, but I don't need calming."

Dr. Beaumont stood up to face the tall, dark man who accused him of being a fraud. "I disagree. You appear excessively distraught over your wife's illness. And let me assure you, I am a doctor – I studied many years and have been practicing for more years than your wife has been alive. I would thank you to keep that in mind."

Suddenly Adam felt overwhelmed by guilt. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I just…I should have left her in Virginia City and not brought her along" Sigrid was so ill because he had dragged her away from all she knew. Of course, she made the decision to join him but nevertheless, she had no true knowledge of what lay in store for her. He had placed her in this situation and now she looked pale as death. "I can't bear to see her so ill. I apologize for any aspersions, Doctor."

"Very well. We shall make no more mention of it. I shall be back to check on…your wife." The doctor picked up his bag but before he left, he turned and saw the man was looking down at the woman. His face was haggard as if he himself suffered from the illness of the sea and his expression was one of profound sadness. Not often did he see such compassion in a man's face, especially for a woman as all men knew that a woman's lot in life was to suffer not just her husband's desires, but the pain and agony of childbearing. But there was something below the surface and the doctor couldn't decipher it but this was not the usual marriage – if that was what it was.

"Mr. Cartwright." Adam turned to the doctor. "I recommend you get out and walk about the deck. Your wife will sleep through the night and there is nothing you can do for her at the moment."

"Yes. Thank you, Doctor. I think I may."

"And eat something yourself." With that, the doctor left them alone.

Adam studied his wife's face. He really knew nothing about Sigrid and she was loath to talk about herself, only saying she had lived a quiet life. And other than what Sigrid had said about their not loving one another, he had no idea how she felt when they lay together. And suddenly, as Adam saw the calm repose of her lovely features, the milky whiteness of her rounded arms and the slight rising and falling of her breasts, he desperately wanted her to love him. And he shocked himself by acknowledging the need.

"Boy," Adam said to himself, "you're losing your mind. Talk about your cabin fever." Adam sighed and then went out to walk under the darkening sky.

Adam stopped and leaned against the rail on the starboard side, the sea becoming dark and melding into the night sky. He could hear the deck hands shouting to one another as they were preparing the ship for the night, some at their positions while the others were preparing for much-needed sleep. As a young man, Adam had read Cook's diaries and Dana's _Two Years Before the Mast_, and often dreamed of signing on a ship such as this. And as a young boy on the overland trip west, many a time Adam had begged his father for a story about his sea voyages and was rewarded with a tale of horrific storms where the men had to be lashed to the masts so not to be swept overboard. And then there were the stories of sea monsters so large and vicious that they swallow a ship and all its men whole - just like Jonah! Of course, as time passed, Adam realized that many of his father's stories were full of hyperbole such as the time his father and the other seamen had to put wax in their ears to keep them from being led on to the rocks by the song of the mermaids. Adam realized later, after reading _The Odyssey_, that his father had lifted the story from mythology. But it had been fun to listen as and whether sitting up front with his father in the midday heat or the mid-west cold, the time passed pleasantly and piqued his childish imagination.

"Well, Mr. Cartwright, good to see you out and about."

Adam looked toward the voice; it was Captain Ashton. "Hello, Captain." Adam reached out and the two shook hands. Then the captain took his place beside Adam, gazing out to sea, listening to the water against the ship.

"Sorry to hear your wife suffers from seasickness."

"Thank you, Captain. She's asleep now. The doctor gave her some laudanum." Adam waited. He wondered if the captain had been looking for him or if this was a chance encounter. They stood in silence until the captain spoke.

"Dr. Beaumont said you doubted his credentials."

"Yes. I was…upset. I shouldn't have done so. I'm sure he's more than competent."

"I know what you're thinking," Captain Ashton said. "There must be something in his background that he's escaping and more than likely, you'd be right. I heard years ago he shot his wife – or his mistress – maybe both."

Adam looked in surprise at the captain. "Oh, is that a fact?"

"No, it's just what I heard. Nevertheless, he signed on with my ship and never debarks if we happen to dock anywhere near Boston. That was eight years ago. But he has been a good doctor, only drinks a bit in the late hours – told me he suffers from insomnia. But then, I believe every man is haunted by something he can't bear to face."

Adam looked back out at the gentle waves. It was no wonder it was named the Pacific Ocean. "Are you warning me against the good doctor or trying to inspire confidence?"

"Neither. Just letting you know that if you smell something off, you're probably right. But Dr. Beaumont has proved himself more than competent – pulled me through a case of the influenza – and half the men as well. I came close to dying. Your wife is in good hands."

Adam said nothing, just felt the breeze play about his face and hair.

"Ever thought about setting out to sea? Last night when you searched me out, I could picture you in white duck trousers and shirt with a kerchief about your neck. You'd make a fine sailor."

Adam glanced at the captain, a small smile on his face. "Oh, you think so?"

"Yes, son, I do. But then perhaps it's not the life for you. Now the doctor and me, we were talking over a glass of whiskey and he thinks you're running from something – says there's something a bit off with you and... well, Australia is populated by criminals and opportunists. And you were in quite the hurry to leave." The captain turned to watch Adam's reaction. "Perhaps it has something to do with the woman, her being so young and such."

"Don't refer to her as _the woman_. And I'm not running from anything." Adam's amused expression dropped away as he stopped leaning on the rail in order to face down the captain.

"No need to get your back up, now. As I said, almost every man who signs on is escaping something, even if it's just a boring life and if the law is after you for stealing away another man's wife, well, the arm of the law doesn't reach out to sea."

"She is my wife. That's all I'll say on the matter." Adam turned back to the water. Silence lay heavy between them for a few seconds.

"Have you eaten anything?" the captain asked. "The doctor says you should – he told me he advised you to, Mr. Cartwright."

"I don't think…" Adam didn't know what to say. Both the doctor's and the captain's concern that he eat surprised him, but then, Adam thought, I am a paying passenger and my comfort should be primary. He felt the captains heavy hand clap his shoulder.

"Go to the galley before the cook's boy finishes scrubbing the pots. We had beef stew and hot biscuits with sliced pears on the side. We don't have much of a menu but I'm surprised what the cook can do with what we load in our stores. The stew with the fresh meat was cooked today and we'll feed on it for another night or two. After that, we'll have dried beef, eggs and on occasion, we have fresh fish. But every night, hot biscuits as long as the weevils don't infest the flour. If they do, it's hard tack."

The idea of hot biscuits – even cold biscuits – made his mouth water so Adam thanked Captain Ashton and slowly made his way to the galley. He would have to find more to do than strum his guitar or read the books he had unpacked from his trunk. He couldn't even amuse himself with Sigrid's body as she was ill. And should she recover, he knew he couldn't explore her curves and valleys as the berths were too narrow with little head room.

Adam sighed to himself. Sigrid was lovely and desirable and it seemed, out of reach. He should have stayed a bachelor, amusing himself with the women who trolled the Australian mining camps. But no, he chastised himself, he had to marry – and marry such a tender one as Sigrid.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to all of you who have left comments - I sincerely appreciate it. I am rushed at the moment but will try to respond to them. Thank you for reading and this section is mainly dialogue but I needed to convey information. Hope it worked.**

**Nine**

As Sigrid was still sleeping, Adam, needing to get out, walked to the galley for a breakfast of ham, two eggs, biscuits and hot coffee. The deck hands had eaten already and were out working, calling to one another and there was such an air of camaraderie that it reminded Adam of working alongside Joe and Hoss on the Ponderosa as they teased each other and pulled pranks – all in good humor. Adam felt a pull on his heart; suddenly he missed them with a desperation, knowing he would more than likely never see them again or hold any nieces and nephews born in his absence. Life would go on without him – life would go on as if he were dead.

"Have some more coffee?" the cook asked, interrupting Adam's reverie.

"Yes, thank you." Adan held out his cup and the cook and poured and then sat on the bench opposite Adam, placing the coffee pot on the rough wooden tabletop.

"First time we've ever carried passengers. Glad to see another American. Quite a few of the hands are Americans who want to get to Australia but don't have the money for passage, so they sign on and work their way over. Then, on the return trip, we have a few Australians who want to get to America. And then there are those like me and the doctor; we just cross the ocean, back and forth, living out our days on the water."

Adam thanked the cook for the coffee and sipped it black. It was surprisingly good and he complimented the man. "Best coffee I've ever had – and I've drunk an ocean of coffee in my years."

"I have a secret; when I grind the beans, I add just a pinch of chicory; learned it from a Creole whore I met in New Orleans. Stayed a week with her. I did the cooking but she made the coffee," and the cook broke out in laughter. Adam smiled.

"If you don't mind, what is the draw of Australia for the likes of you? I mean you seem an educated man."

"A copper mine. The price of copper is going sky-high and if we – my waiting partner and I - can import it to the States, it'll be a lucrative prospect. Copper's needed for construction, mainly for the making of pipes." Adam didn't mention the silver mine. More than likely, Caleb Morgan filed the claim but he didn't know for certain. There may be no silver mine.

"So, you're going to the outback to settle," the cook stated. Adam nodded, drinking his coffee, so the cook continued. "It's a hard life out there, or so the men say. Hear you brought a wife along and that she's doing poorly."

Adam caught the wording – 'a wife' – not 'your wife'. "Yes. I brought my wife. We're hoping she'll get used to the water soon."

"You'll need a woman, someone to provide a few comforts. It's a rough land – rough. Not so much dealing with the Noongas…"

"The what?"

"The Noongas. Abos. You know, the Boomers. They use that boomerang thing as a weapon – crush your skull with it and all you'll hear beforehand is an odd swish through the air. The Aussies have all sorts of names for the native people – treat them just like we treat the Indians, like pieces of trash to be swept up and disposed with. We take what we like and the hell with them. I think I prefer the sea over land any day."

For the first time, Adam considered the people he might be displacing. His father had killed many Indians who tried to run him off the Ponderosa, who tried to run him off what he felt was his land. And the Paiutes and Bannocks felt the land was for everyone. Adam had felt guilt many times over when he saw the Indians on the government reservations and how they were treated – called the "Red Brethren" but not treated as such. Many a Sunday sermon was dedicated to convincing settlers and homesteaders that God provided the land to those who were superior and could make the land serve him. After all, as the Bible said, man had dominion over all. Even as a boy, that philosophy never quite sat well with Adam. And he always carried in the back of his brain, the image of Hoss' mother, dying, with an arrow in her breast.

"Well, let me take your plate if you're finished. My boy is up to his elbows in soapy water and he may as well scrub the egg off this as well." The cook stood up, stepped over the bench along the side of the table and took Adam's plate, leaving him to finish his coffee and consider just exactly what he was doing in going to Australia and the effect it might have on those who lived there from time out of mind.

The ship was full of energy, the laughter, the cursing, the insults, and Adam strolled about the deck making certain to stay out of the way of swinging rope and swabbing deck hands. The wind was brisk and smelled sweet and fresh. He wondered how far out they were as nothing but water stretched out about them. Adam didn't like the thought of going back to the cabin just yet, to the claustrophobic atmosphere and Sigrid ill; it made him feel inept. Not that Adam blamed Sigrid – he actually blamed himself - and Adam did understand about sudden illness. But he wasn't one to enjoy tending the ill or wounded, although God knew he had done it many a time.

He walked back to the cabin, going down the short length of narrow stairs and paused outside the cabin door; he heard male voices – more than one - and Sigrid's involved in conversation. Adam opened the door and saw Sigrid propped up in bed by the pillows from both berths, her robe lying over her backwards with her arms through the sleeves, sipping tea and a tray holding a teapot and a plate of toast across her lap. And although she was pale and there was pain in her eyes, she was talking and smiling with Dr. Beaumont and a man Adam didn't know. When Adam stepped inside both men turned; they had pulled up the chairs in order to comfortably talk with Sigrid.

"Well," the unknown man said, quickly rising and putting out a hand, "you must be Mr. Cartwright. I'm Jerome Hightower, the only other passenger aboard. So pleased to make your acquaintance."

Adam shook his hand. Jerome Hightower was at least five years younger than he was with wavy dark-blond hair and flashing white teeth. He was close-shaven and dressed in a crisp suit with an air of the big city about him.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hightower, but I find it odd that I meet you for the first time in my cabin." Adam released Jerome's hand. The man seemed a bit flustered.

"Well, I was strolling about after breakfast, a post-prandial diversion…."

Doctor Beaumont stood and stepped toward them. "It is my doing, Mr. Cartwright. I passed Mr. Hightower…"

"Jerome. As I asked before, please call me Jerome, Doctor."

"Very well, if you like. Mr. Cartwright, I was bringing your wife some ginger tea and dry toast and…"

"And he herded me along thinking that I would enjoy meeting the two of you. So sorry to see your Missus is ill but hopefully, when next I see her, the two of you, that is, she'll be better." He turned to smile at Sigrid. "Let's hope for good health soon."

"Yes," Adam said, a stiff smile on his face. Looking at Jerome's guileless face made Adam want to punch him. "Let's hope she will feel better."

"Well, I must be off!" Jerome turned back to Sigrid. "I promise I will bring you the book I mentioned. It's quite entertaining and I guarantee you will enjoy it."

"Thank you so much, Jerome. I'll be expecting it."

"It will be my pleasure. And thank you again for the promise of socks – a bachelor such as myself can always use another pair of socks. But knowing they were knitted with such lovely hands, well, I'll be loath to put them on my feet!" He turned back to Adam. "Goodbye, Mr. Cartwright. Perhaps I'll see you at noon lunch. I find I have nothing in common with the sailors so it would be good to have someone to talk to. Goodbye again, Mrs. Cartwright."

Jerome Hightower left humming a popular tune, and Dr. Beaumont stood silent, looking at Adam, waiting.

Sigrid spoke to break the tension. "Mr. Hightower is very nice, Adam. It's a shame you didn't come earlier to spend more time with us."

"Yes, isn't it," Adam said, crossing his arms. "Thank you, Dr. Beaumont for tending to my wife. It was kind of you to secure entertainment for her."

"It was my pleasure. Now, Mrs. Cartwright, try to eat more toast but don't force yourself and nibble on some of the crystallized ginger through the afternoon. I'll be back later." He turned to look at Adam. "Goodbye, Mr. Cartwright." And with a small nod, the doctor left and Sigrid slid back down in the bed after placing the teacup on the tray.

"Adam, would you take this?" Sigrid asked. He stepped over and removed the tray.

"Whatever you ask," he said, curtly. He hoped she noticed his annoyance.

Sigrid pulled off the robe; it was warm and the breeze from the open windows had died down a bit.

"You must be feeling better," Adam said putting the breakfast tray on the table by Sigrid's knitting, the unfinished sock still on the needles.

"Not really."

"Oh? You seemed well enough to entertain – or was I misled along with the doctor and your new friend, Jerome."

Sigrid was puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"Just that I come in and see you half-naked, entertaining both the doctor and some stranger as if you're a queen holding court."

"I wasn't 'half-naked' and I wasn't entertaining anyone. Dr. Beaumont merely brought me my breakfast and thought Jerome might care to meet us seeing that we're the only other passengers. That's all it was."

"Dr. Beaumont," Adam said, his mouth grim. "Now he's concerned not just with your goddamn 'mal de mer' but with your social life. And what's this about you knitting "Jerome' a pair of socks? I thought those socks were for me."

"You didn't seem too thrilled with the socks earlier, but if you want a pair, I can always knit you another. I'll have more than enough time."

"So, I take second to a total stranger – someone you just met. Put you and him together for fifteen minutes and you're knitting him socks. What next? Don't tell me you'll be thanking him with more than a smile."

"Adam, what's wrong with you? You're exaggerating and behaving like an…I don't know what. You're implying that I have some romantic interest in a man I just met and …I mean, look at me! I know how bad I look – I'm no maiden trapped in a tower for a knight to rescue, although I am trapped - I'm trapped inside this cabin and even if I didn't feel so awful, I'm still supposed to stay inside and not…" Sigrid started to cry. Her head was throbbing worse and her stomach threatened to rebel against the tea and the bits of toast she had eaten. And Adam was accusing her of…she wasn't sure what.

"Sigrid…don't cry. Now, don't…you'll make yourself…" But before Adam could finish, Sigrid threw the sheet aside and looked about desperately for the chamber pot; the doctor had moved it to make space for the chairs. She saw it in the corner and dropped to her knees in front of it just in time to keep from spewing on the floor. Adam kneeled beside her and held back her hair while Sigrid retched until she was weak and wanted nothing more than to lie on the cool floor. But Adam scooped her up and laid her back in the berth. Sigrid pressed her head between her hands trying to find some comfort while tears rolled down her cheeks.

Adam wet another flannel and brought it over to the bed, wiping Sigrid's face with it.

"Thank you," she murmured as she tried to stay as still as possible. Maybe then she would feel a bit better and not as if the floor was tilting under her although in actuality, she realized, it was.

"See if you can sleep some," Adam said, but Sigrid's eyes opened and she reached out for his hand; he gently took it.

"Adam, I feel as if the whole world has turned upside down." Tears shimmered in her eyes.

"Sigrid…" Adam sat on the edge of her berth, his neck bent at an awkward angle; nothing in the cabin was comfortable. He held her small hand in both of his. "Oh, Sigrid, I think we may have both made a mistake. I can't shake the feeling. And I have to agree with you – the world has turned upside down and I shouldn't admit it but…"

Sigrid studied her husband's face. "Are you afraid, Adam?"

He looked into her dark eyes. What would she think of him if he said he was afraid – terrified about the path down which he was leading her. If it were just himself, that would be different, but to take someone else into the unknown – that was a heavy responsibility.

"Yes. Not so much for me but for you." He dropped her hand and pulled one of the chairs closer to sit more comfortably. "Haven't you ever wondered why I'm not married?"

"Yes, but I just thought no woman in her right mind would have you." Sigrid managed a smile and Adam returned it, chuckling at her comment.

"You're not half wrong. I've done a lot of thinking about it lately and, well, I find it an intimidating burden to be responsible for others. I mean in the Army, I was responsible for men, but that was different; they joined knowing the risks. Other than that, all the decisions I've made, I was the only one taking the risk but now I've put you at risk too."

"Adam, it was my choice."

"But I don't think you knew the risks – not really, because I hadn't myself. It doesn't really matter much, though, does it, with us out at sea. This whole thing makes me feel like a failure in more than one way. I should have done more research, not be in such a damn hurry to book passage and taken more time…" Adam stopped himself; he didn't want to suggest he thought Sigrid was a mistake, but perhaps she was. "I thought I'd be able to protect you from all the bad things that could happen but suddenly, it seems like everything's out of my control."

"No one can control everything, Adam. Actually, I don't know that we can control anything." Sigrid adjusted her position on the bed and changed her gaze to the underside of the higher berth. "And I've thought about us, about marrying you and being your wife – there's not much else for me to do but think about things – and I don't want to say that I accepted your proposal out of desperation, but I so wanted more out of life, some excitement and adventure and…a husband. I was tried of being a spinster but now, I wonder why I ever regretted my life in my father's house. Excitement is greatly over-glorified."

"Yes, I suppose so…" His voice drifted off. He didn't know what to say to her to make things better.

"Adam, you can be honest with me. Do you wish you'd brought Mary Dawson instead?"

"You know about Mary?"

"Oh, Adam, everyone knew about you and Mary. My father told me it was she you loved and that something must have happened to make you marry me instead. I do wonder about the gossip after we left. Do you think Mary Dawson was hurt by what you did – by what we did?"

"Oh, Sigrid." Adam sighed. "I suppose Mary was hurt; I considered it, but…all right, I'll be blunt and honest – I see no reason to lie about any of this. I didn't love Mary – I cared for her a great deal. And although I am fond of her children, I wasn't ready to take on a wife and three children as well as a sea voyage to a country where I didn't know what the hell I'd find. My father told me that I'd fall in love with her once I married her, once I slept with her; he said love more or less springs forth from the act. But, if that's true, well, then I'd love anyone I'd marry if I crawled on top of her enough times."

Sigrid laughed but it wasn't with pleasure. "Oh, that's basically what Mrs. Hellström, our housekeeper told me. She said that love springs from…intimacy. That marrying for love is a ridiculous, foolish notion born from novels and songs. Life is never like that – never. And an undying passion dies. A woman should ask nothing more from a husband than that he bed her regularly and give her children to love. That will be fulfilling, she told me – children. That is a woman's true happiness incarnate. And if she grows to love her husband and he, her, then God has smiled on them both."

"Sigrid…" Adam leaned forward but Sigrid closed her eyes. Adam noticed that tears escaped the far corners of her eyes and she wiped them away.

"I hate to ask you, Adam, but would you empty the chamber pot. I know you've been doing it and I would do it but the smell…"

"Of course." He stood up. "See if you can get some sleep."

Adam sat for a few seconds more before he pushed back the chair and stood, looking down at Sigrid. "I'll empty this," he said picking up the chamber pot, "and then I'm going to wash and shave. Let me know if you need anything." Sigrid didn't respond. And later, while Adam stood in front of the mirror shaving, he kept glancing at the reflection of Sigrid lying in her berth. Now he knew how Sigrid felt about their marriage – and she knew about Mary Dawson. Mary still bothered him; he should have spoken to her before marrying Sigrid but he had been a coward, wanted to avoid what most certainly have been an emotional scene.

Adam looked at his wife again and wondered about Jerome Hightower and if Dr. Beaumont had an ulterior motive for introducing Sigrid to the man. And what book was Jerome bringing to her? Adam had unpacked the ones he had brought along, deciding he needed some way to pass the time; if Sigrid wanted to read, she could read one of them. Adam decided he didn't care for Jerome Hightower – or Dr. Beaumont and as he stared at his own reflection, he decided that at the moment, he didn't much care for himself either.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

On the fourth morning out, Sigrid was sitting up at the table, wearing her robe when Adam brought in breakfast for both of them. Adam decided he should start taking his meals with her as she seemed to feel better and he remembered once his father saying that people began to form bonds over meals. Adam also knew that breaking bread with a woman was one way to initiate any intimacy. Adam also believed people ate the way they made love and so it was a way to judge a woman's expression of passion. So far, Sigrid had been too nervous or ill to eat and Adam hoped that soon, all her appetites would return.

"Hope you're hungry," Adam said, placing the tray on the table and setting the food before each of them. The cook had placed pot covers over the plates of food for the journey to the cabin. "This damnable coffee pot and cups have slid about as I tried to balance it all, but I managed. Surprised myself." He grinned at her as he pulled out his chair and sat down. Sigrid looked pale but she smiled in reply and pulled her wrapper tighter. She wore her hair in one long braid but it was loose, hair falling away from the woven strands since she had lain in the berth for so many days.

"I'm not really hungry – still a bit queasy - but I couldn't stand to lie there anymore. But good news - Dr. Beaumont is seeing to it that I receive clean sheets today. Isn't that nice, Adam? And he said we're making good headway and should be in those islands, the Gilbert Islands, in just a little over a week. That'll mean we're almost halfway there."

Adam turned over the coffee cups and poured for them both. "How nice of Dr. Beaumont to promise you clean sheets. He's just full of surprises, isn't he? And what a wonderful bedside manner, he has. I'm surprised he hasn't crawled right in the bunk beside you to take your pulse." Adam had earlier mentioned to Sigrid how good the coffee was and he promised that when Sigrid wanted a change from ginger tea, he would bring her some. "Drink your coffee."

Sigrid sipped but said nothing. "You needn't to be so snide about Dr. Beaumont, Adam. He is a kind man and a good doctor. And he's going to bring me enough fresh water so I can finally wash my hair." Sigrid pulled off the pot cover and looked at a slice of ham and two fried eggs and a biscuit. She swallowed to keep down her revulsion at the smell of food. She replaced the cover. "You can have my food," she said pushing it toward Adam.

"You need to eat." Sigrid's collar bone was prominent and her cheeks were hollowing, she had lost so much weight. "It's been four days now and you're becoming…gaunt. Dr. Beaumont said yesterday that you need to eat, and since you think so highly of him…"

"Just stop, Adam." Sigrid sighed and then lifted her fork and pulled the plate back to her. She stared at it and while Adam carefully watched, and using the side of the fork, she cut off a bit of egg and ate it. Then she waited and reached for the biscuits. "You can eat, Adam. You don't have to watch every mouthful I take." So, he ate but still watched, glancing over at her, and Sigrid struggled with each bite.

"Adam, have you seen Jerome Hightower? He promised me a book and so far, he hasn't come by." Sigrid went back to sipping the coffee. It was good but for some reason, she didn't want to give Adam the satisfaction by telling him.

"I saw him yesterday. I told him you were too ill for visitors. Glad to know he has the decency to stay away." Adam wouldn't meet Sigrid's gaze but continued to eat.

"But I'm not that ill…well, I'll feel more like visitors once I'm washed and dressed. Doctor Beaumont said he'd come by and take me out for a short stroll. He said the fresh air would do me good."

"You know what Captain Ashton said about keeping you away from the sailors."

"I told the doctor all that, but he said that I was his patient and he knew what was best. And it's not as if I'm going to dress up and flaunt myself in front of all those men." Sigrid broke off another part of the biscuit and stuck it in the egg yolk that she had burst. "The problem with eggs," Sigrid said, "is that they cool off so quickly."

Irritation at the situation took away Adam's appetite. With the attentions of Dr. Beaumont and Jerome Hightower looming, he wanted to explode, to rage and slam his fist on the tabletop as his father would! He wanted to roar his anger, to tell Sigrid that she was his wife and she would do as he said. But instead, he tossed the napkin on the table, pushed back the chair and left the cabin to stalk about the decks until his fury subsided or was diffused in another way.

Sigrid sat back and sighed. What was she going to do with the man? She had married him despite her father's wishes to the contrary and with Adam being almost a total stranger. Sigrid had known Adam had been squiring about a widow with three children and had instead, asked her, Sigrid Eklund, to marry him. What about that, her father had said. What about a man who led on a woman and then, quick as you please, asked for another in marriage? That did give Sigrid pause. She knew Adam didn't love her nor did she…Sigrid considered. How did she feel about Adam?

She had to admit that she thrilled to Adam's touch when the lay together, at the warmth of his mouth and his knowledge of all the ways to delight her. But if Adam loved her, he never said it and he seemed far too familiar with a woman's body; Sigrid didn't know if that was good or bad. But Adam was acting the jealous fool when it came to Dr. Beaumont or Jerome Hightower. Why? Because a wife was a man's property, his chattel, and every man guards what's his whether he prizes it or not.

A sigh escaped her as she toyed with her food, pushing it about on the plate, and Sigrid wished Jerome Hightower would come by; she could use his cheerful, handsome company. But she didn't want him to see her until she was washed and dressed, so maybe it was best that for the time being, he stay away. There would be enough time for books.

The sun was becoming hot but the crisp breeze made it surprisingly comfortable. But off in the horizon, Adam saw dark clouds rolling in and he wondered about the weather. If it would be only rain, it wouldn't be much of an issue, but rough seas would only compound Sigrid's seasickness and might even touch him if the ship was tossed about too much. Adam now truly understood when his father compared the desert with the ocean - a man felt insignificant on either vast expanse as nature was a destructive force that took no recognition of human existence. And an angry ocean, that was a frightening sight to see and experience.

He heard heavy cursing and rounded the turn to see Captain Ashton standing by a piece of machinery, two large metal-spoked wheels connected to pistons, swearing that it could go to the devil and take along the sweating, grease-smeared man who stood beside it holding a small wrench. As he came closer, Adam could see it was part of a bilge pump and that it obviously was in need of repair as a few pieces of it lay about.

"I told you, Cap'n, when you asked" the man with black grease on his face and hands was saying, "that I can handle simple machinery but this – this cursed thing is full of the devilment. The more I try to repair it, the worse it becomes as if it has a mind to spite me!"

"If you don't fix it, how'll we manage in a great storm like the one that threatens now, with only one pump working?" the Captain asked. "You know how? I'll tell you? You'll be out here with a bucket scooping the stormwater over the sides!"

Adam considered before he interrupted. "Captain Ashton, I couldn't help but hear that the windlass – that is a windlass, correct?"

"Aye. You know about windlasses?" The Captain's ears picked up at Adam's knowledge.

"It doesn't take much knowledge to see it needs repairing. Perhaps I can help. I used to repair machinery back on the Ponderosa – my family's ranch. When a boy, I helped a blacksmith and know how to use a soldering iron, how to make joints and such. Mind if I take a look?"

The Captain looked at the other man who only shrugged. "You know anything about chain pumps, Cartwright? Elm pumps?"

"Not too much but from what I understand, there are tubes bored out of elm trunks in the bilge. This windlass is turned with this crank," he picked it up off the deck, "causing the pistons to move and that action lifts up the water. It's not that complicated a mechanism."

"That's right," the machinist said. "The problem seems to be here. See. I attach the handle – right here – to rotate the windlass but it jams. I think it must be the camshaft but, well, I'll be damned if I can figure out how to repair it. If you can help, we'll all be grateful – as well as afloat. As you can see, there's a storm coming our way." The machinist looked at the far horizon again. Adam did as well and saw the distant lightning.

"I'll give it a try." Adam kneeled beside the apparatus; the design was relatively simple and Adam had an intuitive knowledge as to how it would work – but it had to be repaired, and quickly. He knew that all ships took on water, that was a fact, but with a storm, more water than normal would fill the lower parts of the ship.

"Go right ahead, Mr. Cartwright." Captain Ashton sat on a nearby wooden crate and nervously smoked his pipe, gazing at the approaching storm, while Adam and the machinist talked and worked on the pump. "It'll take two men to tend to the pump in this storm," Ashton mumbled to himself.

Adam and the machinist worked efficiently, and at one time, Adam went below to check out the lower section. After about 40 minutes of hard work, the pump was repaired and the windlass cranks could be efficiently turned. But when Adam stood up, the sky was almost dark as night and the wind had picked up causing the sails to clap against themselves. The deckhands were trying to manage all the sails, adjusting them for the winds that were rapidly rising and others were hurrying about making certain everything was battened down. Barrels were tied on the sides of the ship to catch valuable rainwater for washing.

"I thank you. Mr. Cartwright," Captain Ashton said, holding on to his hat that threatened to blow off across the water. The ship was having trouble staying on an even keel and all three men were swaying to maintain their balance. "But before I go take the wheel, let me say, if you find Australia not to your liking, you can work both your own and your wife's passage back to the States on my ship. I could well use a man with your talents. I return every three months." The captain pointed at Adam with his pipe. "Now, you keep that in mind."

Adam laughed as he wiped his greasy hands with his handkerchief. "I hope that won't be the case, but I'll keep it in mind." And there was suddenly a sound like pebbles hitting the deck and one stung Adam's cheek. They were fat rain drops coming down with great force, propelled by the wind. Adam started to hurry back to the cabin but within a few steps, the sky seemed to open and the rain fell in sheets, soaking him to the bone. It felt cool and cleansing and he closed his eyes letting the rain wash away all his suppressed anger and tensions. Lightning fell and thunder clapped and he hurried below deck to the cabin and his thoughts went to Sigrid and he wondered if she was frightened by the storm or was she being comforted by the good doctor?

~ 0 ~

"Adam, will we sink?"

"No, we won't sink, that is not unless you see the Ghostly Sailor." Adam lay on the lower berth, his back against the wall, holding Sigrid, her back curled against him.

"The Ghostly Sailor? Oh, Adam you're making that up."

"No, no, I'm not. It's an old sea legend; my father who was a merchant seaman, told me all about it once. He swore it was true."

When Adam had made it to the cabin, he saw that Sigrid had stowed away the breakables and anything loose – the breakfast dishes, his books. Sigrid said that Dr. Beaumont had come by and told her a storm was rising and that she should prepare. He would bring extra water another time but for now, he would empty the basin and the large metallic pitcher that held their water for the day. Then he told her to make sure she wouldn't be tossed about herself and to lie in the berth, holding on to the sides if the waters became too rough. But the outside edge of the berths had wood carved lower in the middle than on the ends in the shape of a smile, just for the purposes of keeping the inhabitant in the bunk and not dumped out onto the floor.

"Like a cradle in a way," Sigrid told Adam.

As soon as he had come to the cabin, Sigrid's face showed her relief but she was surprised he was so wet. He told her about helping repair the windlass of the bilge pump and how it made him feel useful for the first time since they came on board. And the whole time he talked, he stripped off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers, standing in his long johns and using a towel to dry his hair. Sigrid averted her eyes as he peeled off his wet long-johns and crawled into the berth over her, his face to Sigrid's back so she wouldn't see worry in his face. But he did jerk slightly at a crack of thunder that seemed to occur almost in his head while Sigrid cried out in fear. And they lay together as the rain pelted the windows and hit the deck above their heads.

"You see," Adam said, his mouth close to Sigrid's ear, "long ago, there was a seafaring man, a hard-working, handsome sailor. He had only one eye, the other having been earlier lost to a giant seagull which swooped down and pecked it out, but he could see more with the one eye had left than other sailors could see with two.

"Now this sailor was much respected and admired by all the other sailors, even the captain, as he could do the work of ten men in less time and knew more than all the other seamen combined about the ways of the sea and its omens – both good and bad.

So, one night there was a ring about the moon and our sailor knew it was a sign of an impending storm – not just a normal, maritime storm that every sailor faces in his time, but a horrible storm – the last storm a sailor faces in his time Our sailor warned the captain who told him that a ring around the moon was just that - a ring, and no more but our sailor knew better and sat awake all night, waiting…waiting. He knew that the next morning may be the last he saw. Well, that next day, early in the morning, our sailor was working hard as he usually did, no matter what, when s storm blew in, the one he had predicted, and rain and thunder and lightning made the sailors cower – all except for the one-eyed sailor. He stood on the deck, handling the wheel better than the pilot or the captain himself could, fighting the waves, and the sea-faring gods took it as a challenge. In response to what they saw as our sailor's hubris, lightning came shooting down like a mighty sword swung on high and struck the mast. It burst into flame and the deck soon caught.

"Even among all the rain that fell, the fire burned, so what use was it to toss buckets of water on the burning deck, the other sailors asked? None, was the answer they gave each other. So, the men, in their terror, began to leap into the sea. 'Fools', the one-eyed sailor cried. 'You are only giving the sea what it wants. Stay on board the ship like me and we will smother the flames together. But they didn't listen and so they all drowned in the angry ocean.

"But our sailor, he stayed on board the ship, fighting the flames but being alone, he was soon burned along with the ship, all the ashes swallowed by the sea. You see, Sigrid, what the sea wants, the sea gets. And so, before any ship founders at sea, the Ghostly Sailor walks about the deck and tells everyone to stay aboard and help him keep the ship aright. And if they do, there's a chance the ship will make it to port. But if they don't, when he does come about, when the Ghostly Sailor wanders the deck, then you know that the ship is going to sink and you are doomed."

"Adam," Sigrid said, turning her head, "that's an awful story! And it's not true! Did your father really tell you that?"

Adam laughed deeply and Sigrid realized that she hadn't thought about the storm while he had been relating the story.

"No," Adam said, nuzzling her neck. "I just made it up hoping to scare you so you'd push p gainst me more."

Sigrid moved about on the bed until she faced her husband. "Adam, I don't believe in any Ghostly Sailor or anything else like that but I have been praying we wouldn't drown. Adam, it would be a shame if we did drown and we…I know I look awful, Adam, and haven't bathed in a few days and such but, oh, Adam…we haven't been together like this…"

"I was thinking the same thing…" Adam pressed his mouth against Sigrid's, his hands loosening her robe and then slipping across her warm flesh. If they were going to sink, Adam couldn't think of a more pleasurable way to drown than lying between Sigrid's thighs.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

Jerome Hightower pointed ahead. "In another day, we should be able to spy the Gilbert Islands." He had one hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Do you think there are cannibals on them?" Sigrid asked. Her bonnet protected her eyes from the sun but the glittering water was almost blinding. She was nervous as on one of her early walks about the ship – now that she had permission from the doctor to do so as long as she was escorted - Sigrid had picked up some rough conversation among a group of laughing sailors who looked at her, openly discussing cannibals eating a woman, starting with her most "delicate, juicy and tasty parts." Although Sigrid ignored them, knowing the remark was a vulgar joke, the idea of meeting up with cannibals made her go cold with fear. She was too embarrassed to ask the doctor about the truth of the men's comment when he rejoined her. But it had stayed with her and so she mentioned it to Adam one evening while he strummed his guitar. Adam said that there may be some islands inhabited by cannibals. But then, Sigrid, told herself, Adam was only trying to make her see how silly she had been with her belief in trolls and elves that she had mentioned during their dinner the previous evening.

_"__When I was bad, my father told me that goblins hid behind rocks and trees and when they saw a naughty child walking by, they tempted her with candies and such. If the child dared eat any of the sweets, which a greedy, naughty child would do, well, any child then became the property of the goblins and could never return home to their parents or their toys or anything else they loved. And then my father would say, 'I would cry over the loss of even a naughty child who disobeyed her father. So, my little, Sigrid, don't wander away from the house because goblins and trolls and the elf maiden are all waiting in the wilderness to snatch away a beautiful child to make their own.' It terrified me!" _

_Adam chuckled. "And you believed all that claptrap? That a mountain troll would jump out and snatch you away if you walked too far?"_

_"__Well, yes. I had to walk alone after school from the last business in town to our house and every day I feared a troll would snatch me away – even when I was older and knew better. And when I was small, I swore an elf lived under my bed and when I was in bed, I would roll myself up in my bedding so the elf couldn't reach up and grab my hand or leg. Even Mrs. Hellström told me that many an ugly elf started out as a naughty child. I mean, I don't believe it now, of course…." Sigrid used her fork to push the food about on her plate and Adam was tempted to snap, 'Don't play with your food,' as his father often had when he was a boy and had no appetite. But he refrained while Sigrid continued. "And how did your father keep you from misbehaving when you were a boy?_

_"__He couldn't." Adam continued to eat the surprisingly good mashed potatoes. _

_"__I'm not surprised," Sigrid said, glancing over at Adam. She was certain Adam had been an impossible child and was the cause of his father's grey hair_.

"Adam, stop teasing me," Sigrid said as she knitted. She could never quite tell if the many things Adam said were the truth or not; his face gave nothing away and he did love to play with her. "Besides," she added, "the captain wouldn't stop on the island if cannibals lived there."

"No, wouldn't make sense," Adam said, looking down at his guitar; he had leaned back in the chair, one foot pressing against the table top maintaining the delicate balance. "But these islanders, they move about, and you've read the story of Robinson Crusoe."

"No," Sigrid said, looking up from her work. She found that as long as the sea was calm, she felt well enough to knit, but she never knew when the subtle movement of the ship would cause her head to hurt again and her stomach to revolt. Jerome Hightower's first promised sock was complete and she worked on the second. "No, I haven't read it. What about it? Should I have?"

"No, I suppose not. It's probably for the best you didn't read it anyway. Sometimes, it's better not to know what cannibals do, how they go about killing their victims." Adam avoided her eyes, a subtle smile on his face as Sigrid slammed down her knitting and stood up.

"Adam Cartwright! Tell me the truth! Are there cannibals on the Gilbert Islands?"

"Now how would I know?" He looked up at her guilelessly and as happened on occasion, when she looked at his eyes and his tender mouth, Sigrid felt a longing in the core of her being. How could a man be so irritating and yet so desirable at the same time? But, Adam continued, "I'm sure the last time The Alliance dropped anchor, there weren't any." He plucked a few strings on his guitar. "What song would you like to hear?"

"None. I don't want to hear any songs. And what do you mean by 'the last time'? You're suggesting there might be cannibals this time, aren't you?" Sigrid always noticed that Adam held his guitar as he would a woman, gently and yet with command. He was always taking it up in his spare moments and passing the time composing original tunes or playing familiar ones.

"Sigrid, I'm suggesting nothing of the sort. How about _Camp Town Races_? Nice, cheery tune."

"I don't want to hear _Camp Town Races_ or anything else! Adam, you are so frustrating!" Sigrid started to cry and Adam realized his teasing had gone too far. He put down his chair with a thump, placed his guitar on the table and went to her.

"Don't cry, Sigrid. I'm sure there aren't any cannibals and you'll be able to safely bathe in one of the ponds. You'll feel a lot better afterward. And I'll stand guard just in case some would-be cannibal is drawn by the roundness of your backside; it might tempt him to take a nip out of it and once he's got the taste of you in his mouth..."

"Oh, stay away from me, you…you…" Sigrid pushed Adam away.

Adam laughed and pulled Sigrid into his arms. "I'm sorry, Sigrid." He nuzzled her neck and she tried to move her head away; he seemed hungry for her. But not tonight – not tonight. "I shouldn't tease you like I do. Now, let's turn out the light and…"

"I need you to leave for a bit. I have things to take care of, you know, what I told you this morning…" Sigrid started to pull away but Adam released her; he had forgotten. She walked to the window where she gazed out onto the dark water; she didn't want him to see her blush. Sigrid silently thanked God for the rain they had a few days earlier; the ship's barrels had collected enough water so that she could wash, not just herself and her hair, but everything she required for her "time". It seemed that she was always washing and drying something.

Adam had forgotten what it was like to live in close quarters with a woman; Marie, Joe's mother had been the last woman and he remembered how his father would say to be quiet, that she was lying down, as it was her "womanly time". Adam also noted his father slept in one of the guestrooms during Marie's "womanly time". Every three weeks a dour Chinese woman, a second or third or fourth cousin of Hop Sing's arrived on the Ponderosa and stayed almost a whole week. Her sole purpose was to wash and dry the strips of muslin that Adam would see hanging on the line out back when he went to feed the pigs. Although at 14, Adam knew about women and their bleeding, it took a while before he connected the two and so he would turn away in embarrassment from the strips as the breeze blew them as if they were small banners announcing Marie's sexuality. They also reminded Adam that he knew a secret about Marie and he felt compromised by their presence.

That knowledge helped Adam understand why so many married couples had separate rooms. It was due to a woman's "time" when she wanted her husband to stay away, to sleep apart so he wouldn't be filled with desire for her – not at that time with so much blood involved. And the constant washing and drying of female items – and then there was that odor. He had forgotten about it, that primal scent that hung about a woman at that time but hung in the back of his nose.

"I'll go for a walk about the deck," Adam said, leaving the low-ceilinged room. He always felt as if the cabin ceiling was pressing down on him so he welcomed the openness of the deck. As he was smelling the sweet, clean air and, looking up at the night sky studded with stars, he realized it did look different than the sky above the Ponderosa. And all those years seemed so far away now, as if that had been someone else's life and not his at all.

~ 0 ~

Every morning, after her breakfast, Dr. Beaumont took Sigrid strolling about the decks but he insisted she either wear her bonnet or a shawl over her head. "It wouldn't do to have these rough sailors see your beauty." Nevertheless, the mariners often stopped their work to watch her walk by and she could hear their low voices as they discussed her.

_"__There she is – the woman on board. Arne said she was a beauty – saw her when he and Short Samuel took a barrel of rainwater to her cabin. But her husband, now he's the one with the dark looks like some Arab, not the younger man with the ready smile. Her husband looks like he'd just as soon kill you as look at you – would gut you like a fish. Best stay away from the woman."_

Doctor Beaumont's and Sigrid's walks had initially annoyed Adam; Sigrid always came back to the cabin with pink cheeks and full of stories the doctor had told her about past voyages. She would chatter and tell Adam about the time a sailor fell into the water from the crow's nest. None of the sailors could swim which he said wasn't unusual, so they wouldn't save the drowning man. Dr. Beaumont himself dove into the water and held the man up until they were both tossed a rope. There was always an interesting story about Dr. Beaumont's time at sea and Adam would listen silently, noting how the good doctor always came out looking like a hero.

One morning, Sigrid roused the courage to ask Dr. Beaumont about cannibals. He had paused, considering his words before he said to her, "It is believed there are some cannibals who populate a few of these islands but as for myself, I have never met any – or I would have more than likely been eaten!" He turned to her with a gentle laugh but Sigrid's eyes were large and round. He realized he had said the wrong thing.

"Mrs. Cartwright, there is no need to fear any cannibals. People misunderstand the whole idea as they think that cannibals eat anyone and everyone. But there has been more cannibalism practiced among supposedly civilized people than heathens. Just strand a group of sailors in a…" The doctor stopped himself and patted Sigrid's arm. "Don't worry about such matters. I'm sure there are more pleasant things to think about.

"Now, let me show you the other side of the ship. You can see the small boats we'd use in an emergency – not that there's going to be one."

Once Adam's initial irritation over the relationship between Sigrid and Dr. Beaumont dissolved, he found that having the doctor pay so much attention to Sigrid was salubrious; she seemed to enjoy the platonic discussions. Maybe, Adam once considered as he lay in the dark of the cabin, Dr. Beaumont reminded Sigrid of Alvar Eklund, her father. Sigrid missed her father and she often mentioned Mrs. Hellström when she had an issue to resolve, wondering what advice the woman would give her – and hat her father would think.

But who had bothered Adam the most was Jerome Hightower. He often stopped by the cabin, the first time with the book he had promised Sigrid, _Vanity Fair_, and since she was under the weather, she was lying prone on her berth in her day clothes. Jerome had pulled up a chair and was reading to her. That was when Adam walked in. Jerome turned his head and smiling, greeted Adam.

"What are you doing here?" Adam asked.

Sigrid, her head spinning from a fresh bout of seasickness, climbed out of the berth while Jerome, realizing his folly in visiting, stood up and began to explain. Adam approached Jerome; his shoulders set for a confrontation.

"Adam, Jerome has brought by the book he promised." Sigrid stepped between the two men.

"Oh, did he?" Adam reached around Sigrid and pulled the book from Jerome's shaking hand. "_Vanity Fair, a Novel Without a Hero_. You brought this for my wife? Seems a bit sensational, something a man might bring to a woman he hopes to seduce."

"No, on my honor, Mr. Cartwright," Jerome said, backing up until he could go no farther unless he crawled into the vacant lower berth which seemed a possibility. "I never even considered…I mean I would never attempt to seduce another man's wife…never!"

Adam looked at Jerome's white face and suddenly knew he had nothing to worry about – the idea of Sigrid and Jerome together was laughable. And if Sigrid preferred this anemic young man to him, well, then they deserved each other. But Adam knew that Sigrid could never be happy with a man like Jerome Hightower and he took some satisfaction in thinking that if she were married to Jerome, if Sigrid were Mrs. Hightower, he might easily snatch her away from Jerome. After all, Sigrid was young and hadn't known a man before Adam, but she often surprised him when she clutched him to her, her passions matching his own, even if she banged her knees on the bottom of the upper berth, or he hit his head causing her to giggle. Jerome wouldn't be able to incite such desire in Sigrid; she wouldn't moan and writhe underneath the well-mannered, prissy, school teacher.

No, Adam had nothing to worry about when it came to Jerome. He even allowed Sigrid to read the book, _Vanity Fair_, although she did tell him some parts of it were "unseemly". So, on occasion, Jerome, sat talking to them in the evening and often walked with Sigrid about the deck in the mornings when the doctor was otherwise occupied. Sigrid told Adam that Jerome was lonely and therefore enjoyed their company since no one on board paid any attention to him other than the doctor.

As for Adam, he found he liked eating his breakfast in the galley and exchanging salty conversation with the seamen. They appreciated he wasn't a "landlubber", knowing more about sailing than any of them would have predicted. Adam could curse with the best of them and would tell rough stories – except about Sigrid – that caused the other men to roar with laughter. It was his familiarity with the men who worked the ship that led to Sigrid being left unmolested as she began to walk more freely about, although always accompanied.

After a night of sharing a bottle of whiskey and quite a few filthy stories about women they had known, with Captain Ashton, Adam was asleep in the cabin's upper berth, one arm thrown across his forehead. He occasionally snored and Sigrid had lain awake most of the night, angry that he had come back slightly drunk. She had planned to chastise him for sitting late with the captain, to tell Adam she was surprised he hadn't tumbled overboard in his drunken state, but when Adam came into the cabin, all of her planned speech fell away; she knew he wasn't a man to listen to a wife's carping.

But now it was morning and the doctor had just left the cabin door after sharing the news with her. Sigrid shook Adam's arm and he struggled awake. He sat up and banged his head on the low ceiling.

"Damn it! I forgot where I was." He rubbed his head. His mouth felt cottony and his head throbbed from the whiskey. "What is it?"

"The doctor just came by to tell us that the Gilbert Islands are in view. Another hour and we should be there."

Adam lowered himself down. He was unsteady at first. "Good. I could use a bath – a good soaking. But first, I need to visit the head." He pulled on his shirt and trousers, leaving his shirt flapping open, and then sat to pull on his boots. Sigrid watched and when Adam stood up and stretched, she spoke.

"Adam, I'm afraid to go ashore."

Patience was lost to Adam. His head throbbed with a mild hangover and he felt stiff and miserable. "Sigrid, there are no cannibals on the island but there might be elves or trolls or goblins. Just be a good girl and you'll be safe." He had one hand on the cabin door but before leaving, he turned to Sigrid. "Tell you what, I'll bring my gun and if anyone threatens you, I'll shoot them. Just make sure I don't mistake Jerome for a cannibal – or a troll."


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

Taking Sigrid's hand and with his pistol tucked in his waistband, Adam walked to the front of the ship where Captain Ashton, leaning and with his pipe in his mouth, watched as his men disembarked from the small boats onto the island to gather coconuts and an odd looking fruit called pandans. At the sound of footsteps, he turned his head and smiled broadly to see two of his three passengers approaching.

"Good to see you, Missus. Well, how's your head this morning, Cartwright?"

"If I could screw it off, I would." Adam grinned and the captain laughed. Sigrid was silent; she didn't approve of spirits and wanted the captain to sense her displeasure but it seemed he was as obtuse as Adam when it came to whiskey.

And Sigrid was still anxious about going ashore. Adam had convinced her – well, partially convinced her, that all her fears were like her childhood fears – not based in reality but living only in her imagination.

"We're about to leave for the island. Any warnings? Advice?" Adam looked at the shore. "I see some of your men are armed. Against what?"

Sigrid went pale with fear again; she felt as if her bowels would loosen. "Are there people who live on the island? Are they…hostile?"

Adam felt Sigrid tighten her grip on his hand and was about to reassure her again when the captain spoke.

"No, Missy, no people. Now that bigger island over there – see?" The captain pointed off to the right and Sigrid pulled down the top of her bonnet to shield her eyes.

"Yes, I see," Sigrid replied.

"Now that's where the islanders live, to my knowledge. Seems when they see our ship, they stay away – that is, if they ever do come here. And let me assure you of something, there aren't many things we seamen fear – we can't afford to or we'd never raise anchor. But there have always been, time out of mind, stories of cannibals eating some poor ship-wrecked sailors who saw the island as their last chance to live. Those stories have been told and retold and they live in the mind. But in all my time, I've never seen any. I think the chances are greater for us to be pulled under by a multi-legged, gigantic, sea monster!"

Sigrid looked at Adam, questioning him without saying anything.

"I think we're safe from monsters and cannibals," he said to Sigrid but then asked the captain, "but why the rifles? There has to be a reason."

"Two. Pigs, Cartwright. Wild pigs. They're mean but make a damn good meal."

"How did pigs get way out here?" Sigrid asked.

"There are many ideas, but I believe years ago," the captain said, "people who were planning on settling in Australia brought livestock along. My guess is a few pigs escaped or they stank so bad they were dumped here, and since pigs easily adapt, well, this island has quite a few of them running about in the underbrush. But the boars can be big and mean and the sows are none too gentle either – snap you hand clean off. That's why some of my men carry rifles. They also shoot down some of the pandan – fruit as big as your head. So I'm glad to see your sidearm, Cartwright. Why the sack? You taking a picnic meal along?"

"No" Adam said, raising the white sack, "laundry."

The captain laughed heartily. "You can't stay none too clean, I suppose. Just ask the doctor." The captain pointed his pipe and Adam and Sigrid turned as Doctor Beaumont approached.

"Good morning to you both."

Sigrid smiled and Adam nodded. "Are you coming ashore, Doctor?" Sigrid asked.

"No, I'm staying on board. I don't leave the ship much. Besides, there was an accident early this morning and I have a patient in sick bay. Need to keep an eye on him."

"Oh," Adam said. "What type of accident?"

"A fall."

The captain stood straight. "How is Mallory?"

"Much better. Looks like his back isn't broken – just a rib and two fingers from grasping ahold of the rope. Hitting the deck was a shock to his system. It's only luck he wasn't up higher. I imagine since he's left-handed, he can still ply a needle to repair any ripped sails while convalescing.

"Well, Mrs. Cartwright, have a nice time on terra firma. And there is a bit of a – often times, it takes a bit to get one's land-legs back, so don't worry if there's a brief flash of 'mal de debarquement'."

"Mal de what?" Sigrid asked.

"Nothing," Adam said. "Thank you, Doctor. We'll be heading out to one of the boats."

"One's almost returned now. Be careful in climbing down, Mrs. Cartwright," the captain said.

"Climbing down? Adam, what…"

"Let's go, Sigrid." Adam firmly gripped Sigrid's hand. "Captain…Doctor…oh, and don't leave without making sure we're back on board."

The captain laughed. "No need to worry. We'll be here until dark." And he went back to his pipe. The doctor stood beside him looking down at the water and the small boat that bobbed at the end of the unrolled ladder, back from taking groups of sailors to the island. Adam slung the sack over his shoulder, and stood at the top on the rope ladder. Three more seamen were climbing down ahead of him.

"Adam, I can't climb down that thing! I'm wearing a dress!" Sigrid was appalled. "Besides, what if I fall in the water?"

"Then I'll jump in and rescue you and you can write your father how I saved your life and won your heart, both at the same time." Adam leaned over and kissed her. "Now, it's the only way to the island. I'll go down before you; then, if you fall, you'll knock both of us into the water. It'll save time." Adam grinned.

"The only way, is it? Well…" Sigrid was wearing a simple, ivory homespun blouse and a blue skirt. She bent over, pulled the back of her skirt through her legs, gathering the petticoat with it, and tucked the hem in her front waistband. "All right, Adam. I'm ready."

"That's my girl," Adam said, laughing while admiring the shape of her calves and ankles. "Let's go."

~ 0 ~

They stepped through the grasses, heading in the direction the pilot encouraged. _"The men are gathering the coconuts; they can climb the trees the same way they shinny up a mast, a sling about their asses, working their way up. And see those palms? Screw palms is what they're called. That fire you hear is them shooting down the pandans. Now, if you head in that direction over that way, there are a few lagoons where you can have some privacy."_

"This is like…I guess paradise," Sigrid said, looking about her in wonder while holding Adam's hand. "I've never seen anything like this before." She was having a bit of trouble adapting and the doctor's warning of "mal de debarquement" was true. She felt as if the ground was tilting and moving.

"Yeah, just like paradise, all right." Adam walked ahead, leading Sigrid. He knew paradise had its devils and while he didn't fear unfriendly natives, he did wonder about snakes or poisonous insects. But it wouldn't do to transfer his fear to Sigrid.

They reached a small lake with a gently sloping sandy shore. It was circled by palms and thick vines that clung to the trunks with dense underbrush in some areas. Adam knelt beside the water and scooped some, tasting it. Looking out, he saw the water moving which let him know that there was an underground source and knowing what he did about digging wells and such, concluded that it must be water filtered by an underground layer or a freshwater spring. But then if feral pigs lived on the island, there had to be freshwater sources dotted about the island. He knew about atolls with their saltwater lagoons and although they were beautiful, swimming in them wouldn't be cleansing but leave one with a salty residue on the skin.

"Well?" Sigrid asked. "Is it all right?"

"Let's go swimming." Adam said, pulling off his boots. He placed his pistol inside one and then waded in fully clothed.

"Adam! You're still dressed! What are you doing?"

"What better way to rinse the sweat out of these clothes!" He swam out further and then turned. "C'mon, Sigrid. Come in and join me."

"Adam, now that I've had enough water on board to wash myself…" She looked about and listened. Although completely undressing in the middle of the day was not a choice, she decided she could strip down to her chemise. Adam waded back to shore and after undressing, hung his wet clothes over some bushes to dry out.

"Adam, you shouldn't walk about like that. I mean, someone might see you and think you're a savage," Sigrid said, carefully folding her blouse. She hadn't worn a corset since the seasickness hit her and enjoyed the feeling of freedom. She began to dread wearing one again but so many suits and dresses wouldn't fit properly unless she did, no mater that she'd lost weight since becoming seasick.

He laughed. "C'mon, Sigrid, be my little savage. Take off these clothes and come in with me." He pulled her closer and nuzzled her neck. "Just the two of us, alone. You know what we can do in that water, don't you?"

Sigrid blushed and pushed against him. "Adam, really."

He laughed. "Oh, Sigrid. I'd have thought you'd have lost some of your schoolgirl inhibitions by now." He walked back into the water and Sigrid watched him, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips. She took off her skirt and tentatively pulled off her knee-length drawers. Then, watching Adam leisurely swim about in the middle of the lake, Sigrid, wearing her chemise, slowly walked into the water which was surprisingly cool.

Adam grinned and treaded water, his arms moving in semi-circles shoulder-height. "C'mon, Sigrid. Come out here."

"I don't know how to swim."

Adam laughed. "Then I'll come to you."

~ 0 ~

The two lay on the grass, Sigrid's head on Adam's chest as he slept, the breeze that carried tropical scents, grazing their bodies. That, as well as their tryst in the water, had made Sigrid drowsy and she had slept a bit, Adam's hand resting on her haunch. There had been no use in claiming she couldn't swim; Adam had taken her hands and pulled her out, terrifying her. But he told her to wrap her legs about his waist and then…Sigrid's face grew hot thinking about it. She felt she had certainly fallen from being a well-bred young woman who attended church regularly and had never kissed a man until marriage, to a lustful woman who shamelessly coupled with her husband in the midst of all this wildness. She could still feel his hands gripping her buttocks as they moved in the chest-high water.

She sat up, not wanting to fall back asleep. She looked up at the sky, at the scudding clouds in contrast to the bright blue, and decided they should return to the ship. The neglected laundry would have to dry on the ship.

Sigrid was about to wake Adam but paused, studying Adam's face as he slept, his dark hair almost dry, the breeze moving a few curls. He hadn't shaved in two days and with the thick black hair on his chest and body, he did look like a wild man. She wondered if Adam was unusual or did all men look like him? And were they all so demanding of women? And did other men also give as much delight to their wives as he did? Sigrid drew her knees up under her chemise which was almost completely dry. An ant climbed across Adam's arm and Sigrid brushed it aside. Her light touch woke Adam.

He smiled tenderly. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked, sitting up.

Although she had no problem looking at him naked while he was asleep, now that he was awake, it didn't seem right to stare at him. Sigrid stood up. "Maybe 20, 30 minutes. Enough time for our clothing to dry."

Adam stretched back out on the grass. "Come back to me." He held out his arms to welcome her return but Sigrid didn't see. She had walked over to the unopened sack of laundry on the ground.

"There are some things that need rinsing out. Once we get to Australia, it may be awhile before…" She stopped and stood up, listening, her thin chemise blowing about her naked legs. Muffled noises as if someone was rustling about in the underbrush drew her attention. Her mind first went to cannibals and then to sailors wanting to see if she was alone. "Adam, what is that…"

A cacophony of squealing broke out and a brood of half-grown feral piglets came running from the underbrush, over the grass, and in their panic, ran into Sigrid, knocking her down and partially running over her outstretched legs. She cried out in pain and drew her legs up, but it was from what they were running that made Sigrid freeze in horror; she couldn't even scream. A huge, tusked boar came out of the greenery, his small eyes glittered. The boar paused for just a moment, swinging the front of its body toward Sigrid and then ran toward her as the piglets had taken off squealing. She couldn't move and the boar was almost upon her when a shot rang out. The boar squealed and fell over but was up again, bleeding from one shoulder. It continued another step before another shot rang out and the boar's front legs buckled and it fell, tried to rise, but then collapsed again, shot between the eyes.

"Sigrid." Adam reached down with one hand; in the other, he held his freshly-fired pistol. "Sigrid!" He dropped down beside her, lay down his gun, and pulled her up into his arms. He saw the blood running down her leg. "You've been hurt."

She looked up into Adam's worried face - and then, seeing the concern in his dark eyes, she began to sob, clinging to his neck.

~ 0 ~

"I think you should be fine now," Dr. Beaumont said as he closed his doctor's bag and patted Sigrid's hand; she was still trying to recover from the chloroform he had given her, a few drops on a muslin cloth that she was to inhale when the pain became too much to bear. "It seems you were bruised and cut from the pigs' hooves – the edges of their trotters scraped and badly cut your leg. But now that the wounds are cleaned, stitched and bandaged, you should heal nicely – may not even have a scar. And if it's any consolation, the cook is butchering that huge boar your husband shot and we're going to have fresh pork for the rest of the trip. The sailors shot and killed about three others but none quite so large. It had to be hauled up by two men.

"Now you rest and I'll see you have a nice pork chop for dinner."

"I don't think I want to eat it. It didn't look like any pig I've ever seen." Sigrid was having problems forming words. It was as if she was at the bottom of that tropical lake and fighting to rise to the surface,

The doctor smiled again. "Yes, things in the wild do change from what they once were. The same with men. Now, stay in bed and don't walk for the next few days except for necessities. So, let me say goodnight and I'll stop by in the morning.

"Good Night, Mr. Cartwright." The doctor tipped his hat to Adam.

Adam had hung back, pacing and watching, while the doctor tended his wife. Now that the doctor had left, they were alone and Sigrid looked up at Adam.

"Thank you, Adam. Thank you for all you did. Seems you're a popular man with the crew." Sigrid weakly smiled. She didn't know what else to say as Adam seemed angry but she didn't know why. "Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not angry with you." He stood next to the berth. Actually, he was angry but didn't want to say anything because he didn't trust himself. After the accident, he had wanted to rush Sigrid back to the ship, first slipping on his trousers and boots, but Sigrid protested, even with tears and all her fear of another wild animal.

_"__I can't go back to the ship in only this chemise. Adam, I can't. I'm half naked! Please! Get my clothes and I need my shoes so I can walk."_

_"__I'll carry you – damn the shoes and as for what you're wearing…" Adam realized that the chemise was short, showing even the lower part of her thighs and the rest of her well-formed legs. It was also thin and he could see the suggestion of her breasts and waist and more. It wouldn't do. She couldn't climb the ladder in just that or she would really be in danger from the crew; there were three more weeks on board. Faced with that, Adam helped her dress while she basically kept her balance by placing her injured leg gingerly on the ground. _

"Sigrid, I…" He glanced down at his hands to gather his thoughts. "I blame myself for what happened. All I wanted was to get you away from the ship and… well, you know the rest. I didn't give much thought to your safety, our safety. I should've just let you bathe and helped you do the laundry." He laughed disparagingly. "Me, doing laundry.

"But I couldn't leave it at that. I had to have more. And then falling asleep in the grass…when I think of how much worse it could have been, how you could have been seriously injured or killed – makes me turn cold."

"Oh, Adam," Sigrid said sleepily, putting out her hand which he took, taking it to his mouth and kissing it. "Please, I'm fine and to be honest, well, I did enjoy it." She smiled at him and then noticed he was still shirtless. "Your shirt, Adam. Did you bring the laundry back?"

"The laundry?"

"Yes, it's my intimate underclothing. I'll need them – I don't have many more. This shift is dirty from the ground and I'd like to change…" She was having trouble staying awake but the laundry – she had to have it. Suddenly, in her chloroform-induced daze, it seemed the most important thing.

"You are something else, aren't you?" Adam shook his head. "I'll get your goddamn laundry, don't worry. Better yet, I can ask one of the sailors to fetch them. But if I do, we may not get back your underclothes; he might keep them or use them as ante in a poker game, you know, toss your drawers in the middle of the table to open."

"You're not very funny, Adam," she said, fighting to stay alert.

"I'm not trying to be. After all that's happened, all you can think of is your goddamn laundry."

"Why are…" Sigrid stopped at the sound of a knock on the cabin door, and Adam, giving Sigrid one last disgusted look, answered it.

"I heard Mrs. Cartwright was gored by a wild boar. How is she?" Jerome Hightower, his face bloodless, stood in the corridor.

"Why don't you come in and find out," Adam said, stepping aside. "I'm sure she'd like to see you." And while Jerome walked in, Adam walked out. He needed fresh air and activity to work off his anger. That Sigrid wanted him to fetch her laundry, grated at him. She didn't appear very grateful to him for probably saving her life at the worst and being mauled at the least.

But then, Adam reasoned, what did he expect? After all, what happened to Sigrid was his fault. He had been told about the feral pigs and should have stood watch while she bathed and did laundry. But he had wanted Sigrid. Over the past few weeks, he found he thought of her more and more and wanted her with every breath. But she, well, she was so self-contained. That is until he had her in his arms. Then Sigrid became wanton.

She was an intelligent woman, albeit, not well-educated but they had yet to have a serious discussion on anything. She had read little and didn't think much of philosophy. So, was his "passion" with her love? With all the poetry and novels he had read, Adam realized that no one really knew what love was, how to define it. Desire and love were easily confused. And he might be doing exactly that.

It took Adam an hour or so to go to the island, find the laundry, and return to the ship. Sigrid was alone, lying in her berth when he returned to the cabin. Seeing Adam, she sat up. Adam noticed she had changed into a clean one that had lace tatting about the neck. He briefly wondered if Jerome had helped her.

He dropped the white sack. "Here's your laundry. Sorry, I didn't wash and dry it for you."

"Why did you leave when Jerome came in?" The anesthetic had worn off and she was alert. "It was hardly appropriate seeing how I was dressed, to be here alone with him."

"I left because I didn't want to stay. Besides, you had to have your intimate underthings – remember? Must be close to dinner. I'll go get us some - that is if you haven't already dined with Jerome."

"You know I haven't and you also know I don't prefer Jerome's company over yours – except when you're behaving this way. Why are you being so difficult?" Sigrid suddenly found herself close to tears. "Sometimes I think that everything is going to be all right, that I did the right thing marrying you and securing a future for myself; I want nothing more than to be able to send money to my father from my shares in the mines. So, I think it was the right decision. But then, I look at you and it's jarring – I realize I've married a stranger and I don't think I'll ever know you any better. There's something about you that…that no one can touch. You won't let anyone get close to you. You won't allow it. And maybe, if I do know you better, I may find that you're not the man I thought you were."

Adam listened, his face not changing expression and because he was silent, Sigrid took courage and continued, swallowing her frustration and anger with this hard-headed man.

"I also understand that I may not be the type of woman you hoped I was. After all, how could you know? I've lain with you as a wife with her husband and I don't regret it; it was...there's a word a teacher used once…. edifying. That's what it has been - edifying. I learned quite a bit about pleasing a man." Sigrid wanted to push Adam and she didn't know why. He had just saved her from a wild boar, shot the animal dead with a bullet through its brain, managed to get her back to the ship and safely in the cabin and yet he wasn't overly concerned about her state of mind – or didn't seem to be. And earlier that day, he had also made love to her as they swirled about in the water. Such a contradictory man. Why couldn't he be kind and gentle and understanding and easy to manage? A tractable husband, that was what she wanted – or thought she did.

"Well, now that's interesting. Not pleasurable, not enjoyable – damn edifying. Well, I think I'm learning some things as well." And with that, Adam walked back out and headed up the narrow stairs to the deck. Sigrid be damned. In a ship this big, he'd find somewhere else to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

For two days, Adam worked around the ship, helping where needed. Surprisingly, he found the life appealed to him and other than an older man who seemed to resent a passenger intruding into their world, Adam was welcomed and accepted even more than he had before. They admired his resourcefulness and his way about machinery. He also grew to know more of the sailors since they worked on shifts and he ate his meals in the galley. When he requested another place to sleep, the captain gave him permission to sleep in the storeroom for dry goods off the galley. It had a cot that the galley boy used for quick naps during the day. Seems the young man was always trying to catch up on his sleep as he was wakened early, went to bed late, and spent his days chopping onions or celery, peeling potatoes or whatever was to be used on the day's menu. Now, with the coconuts in the store, those the sailors hadn't already slashed open to feast on, the galley boy, alongside the cook, had to remove the fibrous outer husk, bore two holes and drain the milky water, and then remove the pure white, sweet flesh. And after all the meals, served around the clock, he scrubbed the pots.

On the third morning after leaving the Gilbert Islands, Adam was sitting on the edge of the cot, contemplating his boots while wondering how Sigrid was getting on. He had time to think at night as he lay on the lumpy cot, sacks of potatoes, beets, oatmeal, beans and peas surrounding him. There were also barrels of flour and suet, sacks of sugar, jugs of molasses, and a huge tin of hard tack. The butter was kept elsewhere along with the meat and the eggs that were almost diminished. A lamp was secured to the wall and Adam kept the wick low at night as it was like sleeping in a dungeon. When he looked about in the morning, he could count how many rats had been caught in the traps set about the floor. The snapping of the springs and the quick fall of the hammers often woke him up at night. Just another rat caught in a trap.

He would lay in the dark and wonder about Sigrid. Did she hate him for walking out? And if she did, he couldn't blame her. He had stayed away two nights and if he stayed away a third…he desired to go back to her, but he couldn't just waltz in as if nothing had happened. And he wasn't sure exactly what had happened except that his pride had been gravely wounded.

There was a rap on the door and not waiting to be given access, Dr. Beaumont, stepped inside the crowded storeroom.

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion, Mr. Cartwright – the captain told me where you've been sleeping." The doctor looked agitated.

Adam pulled on a boot. "Is it Sigrid? Is something wrong? I'm sure you didn't come down here just to say hello." He reached for his other boot and his pulse stepped up. The doctor probably thought his absence was in Sigrid's best interest and may even have come to discourage Adam from any hopes of reconciliation.

"Yes, something's wrong." The doctor stood up straight and Adam stood up to face him.

"What? What is it?"

"I misjudged her injury; I closed the wound too soon – I should have left it open to drain."

Adam felt a buzzing in his ears. Injury – wound – the words were like bees in the air. "What are you telling me? Is she all right?"

"Yes, considering, but she's a bit feverish."

"What do you mean, 'considering'? Considering what? I want to know before I go back."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you are going back; it's been very distressing for your wife to be left alone. She hasn't said anything but whenever I've been to check on her, I can tell that she's hoping I'm you and seems disappointed and upset that I'm not." Adam said nothing and the doctor continued. "When I checked on her this morning, the wound was…it was swollen – tender - beginning to fester. I cut the stitches and giving her some chloroform as I had before to ease the pain. I cleaned it out, trimming some necrotic flesh at the edges. I took great care – great care but she needs to be watched. I left the wound open, loosely wrapped, and hope that by the end of the week, I can stitch it shut again; she's been through so much. I want to move her into sick bay but she refuses. I believe she wanted to be in your cabin when – or if – you return; I think she's unsure. But I was hoping you could convince her to stay in sick bay for a few days. I am…concerned about…."

The doctor dropped onto a crate as if his legs had buckled. "I have a history…Mr. Cartwright. I _am_ a good doctor. I am. But there are ghosts of my past that are haunting me as this situation with your wife reminds me of treating someone I loved… I'm sorry, Mr. Cartwright." The doctor pulled himself up off the crate. "I won't trouble you with my personal history but please, talk to your wife. I didn't tell her but if this infection turns gangrenous, I'll have to amputate at the knee and I don't want it to go that far so…please, go see her, talk to her, and convince her to comply."

Adam stood thinking, his hands resting on his hips. He had seen soldiers with gangrene who either died or who came out of the war walking with a crutch, the empty pants leg tucked into their waistbands. Or perhaps having an empty sleeve as a continual reminder that the arm was gone. Some even lost their lives to the creeping death of their organs. "Thank you, doctor," Adam said, having come to a decision. "Prepare a bed for her. She has no choice in this." Adam passed the doctor who followed him with his gaze, and hurried up the galley stairs and to his and Sigrid's cabin.

The doctor sat back down again and covered his face, resting with his elbows on his knees. He couldn't kill another young woman due to his misjudgment and his capitulation to her begging to keep her leg. Sigrid Cartwright was far too young and too beautiful to suffer or to die due to his weakness. And although he was not a particularly religious man, the doctor said a small prayer for Adam Cartwright – that he would be successful in his part to save his wife's leg, successful where he, himself, might fail.

~ 0 ~

Sigrid lay on the narrow cot in the far end of sick bay, a make-shift curtain between her and the other three beds, the first which held the injured sailor, Mallory, who had fallen to the deck. Tears escaped her eyes but she was too upset to wipe them away. How could Adam do this to her, come into the cabin and tell her he was taking her to sick bay? He hadn't shaved in almost a week and his clothes were rank with the sharp tang of his sweat. But she didn't mind all that – no, she would gladly have him back with her, sweating over her and feeling the roughness of his beard against her cheek no matter how he smelled or looked.

But when Adam had barged into the cabin, Sigrid sat up as best she could, still being lightheaded and slightly nauseated from the chloroform. She hoped he would come to her. He did. But he didn't ask for her forgiveness for his deplorable behavior, tell her he adored her or anything else. All he said was that she was going to sick bay and he wouldn't hear any argument. Then he reached down and scooped her up along with her coverings. Adam shifted her in his arms once he was steady and balanced, and carried her to sick bay. Sigrid protested, begged not to go but he was deaf as stone, just kept walking, his boots hitting the boards with a resounding noise. Once they were above deck, Sigrid hid her face against his chest; she didn't want to see the inquiring eyes of the men who paused in their work to watch. By then, all knew that the female passenger had been injured by the wild pig while she was half naked. How that detail came to light was unclear but it was given more credence than the story that her husband was luxuriating in his wife's flesh when the boar came barreling out of the brush. attracted by the woman's female scent. It was, though, a far more titillating and interesting story than the truth, so it was bandied about with many a rough comment and hearty laugh.

Her leg seemed to throb along with the beat of her heart. She knew the matter of the wound was serious just by the doctor's face and the way he refused to look at her while he gently clipped the black stitches. Sigrid had gripped the blanket because the gentle pull on the flesh was almost agonizing. That was when Dr. Beaumont had pulled out the chloroform and smiled gently. Then came the worst part. And Sigrid would take a deep breath of the infused handkerchief and she would float above the receding pain.

When he was finished, the doctor told her he wanted her in sick bay where he could keep a better watch over her. He smiled but Sigrid saw the fear in his eyes and heard it in the tone of his voice. But, she argued, she was waiting for her husband – Adam had been gone for two days, she informed him, her voice breaking. She didn't know where he was and she feared he had fallen overboard or been killed in a poker game. She couldn't voice her greatest fear, that he was abandoning her, was going to send her packing once they pulled into the port of Brisbane.

The doctor had patted her hand consolingly, had told her not to worry so much. Her husband was fine and would soon be there. She could trust him to get word to her husband and was certain he would return to her. And he dripped some more chloroform onto the handkerchief and told her to use it if she so desired; there was still another hour or more before daylight so she should use it to sleep. But she chose not to. It was a pleasant enough diversion from pain, the light drowsiness that removed her from it but it was afterwards when she felt dizzy and her stomach felt the same as in the midst of her seasickness that she didn't like. Besides, if Adam returned, she wanted to be awake. But now she lay alone in sick bay, all but ignored by Adam who had left as soon as he saw she was comfortable.

Sigrid suddenly turned her head; she recognized Adam's footfall, the familiar cadence of his bootheels, and wiped her tears away. She would be brave in front of him. The curtain was pushed aside and Adam stood there looking down at her. He had shaved, his cheeks and neck showing a dark sheen. And he was washed and had put on clean clothes.

The not unpleasant smell of camphor struck Adam first. His father once used it mixed with ground onion, on a scorpion bite when Adam was a young boy. He was bringing in a load of hastily gathered firewood, one of his chores, and halfway across the room, Adam felt a sting in his soft inner arm. He dropped the wood which clattered on the floor, some landing on his feet, and a small scorpion scuttled out and across the room. "Pa!" Adam had yelled. He knew about scorpions, had always been told to be careful, to shake out the horse blankets before saddling the horses, and to check his boots before putting them on in the morning and most of all, to carefully pick up the wood from the outside stack. But he hadn't been careful, had been angry about being made to fetch more wood for the cook stove right then, and because of that, he was bitten. And the smell of camphor always brought back the few days when he lay feverish from the bite.

Adam stood next to Sigrid's bed and the fact that she had been crying, and probably over his apparent rejection of her, struck his heart. All this misery for what? For his pride and lust. Adam wondered about the other deadly sins – wrath, avarice, sloth, gluttony, envy – he was certain he was guilty of them all at some time or another.

"Do you mind if I sit on the bed?"

"No, I don't mind." She shifted over being careful of her leg. The bed sagged under his weight.

"How are you feeling?"

In a formal tone, Sigrid said, "I'm fine, thank you. I'm sure you're feeling fine as well, now that you're rid of me." Her voice held an unvoiced sob.

Adam sighed and chose not to respond to her comment, "The doctor told me about your leg and the prognosis. He said that if the bandage is changed and the wound responds to the camphor and sulpha powder, he'll be able to stitch it closed in about a week." He waited but Sigrid stayed quiet, still looking at the ceiling. "Sigrid, I've had time to do a lot of thinking about matters."

"I'm sure you have as I have as well." She refused to look at him.

"All this, all that's happened between us, it reminded me of a friend of mine. We were very close, he and I. Have I told you about him?" He looked at her lying in the bed. The sun on the island had caused light freckles to show across her nose and cheeks, making Sigrid look much younger. Her dark hair lay against the white pillowcase and her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes glittered. Adam knew she was feverish.

"You know you haven't." Her hands were crossed over the sheet and Adam noticed the wedding band had been moved to her middle finger; it had been slightly loose to begin with and Sigrid, having lost weight on the trip, must have feared losing it.

"Well," Adam started, looking at her, "Would you like to hear?" She shrugged. "Like I said, I've been thinking about him, his life and such. You may find it interesting. His name…well, I'll just call him Matt." He glanced down at Sigrid and her brow was furrowed. "You keep frowning like that and you'll look like an old woman before your time and I won't want you." Sigrid huffed but stopped frowning.

"Matt was always smart – smartest boy in the classroom and he seemed to have a natural aptitude for building things but all the lauding of his intelligence made him arrogant."

"Sounds a bit like you," Sigrid added. "The arrogant part, that is."

Adam raised his brows and gave Sigrid a side-glance. "There are some similarities, I suppose. He went back east to school as well. And this is where the sad story begins because while there, he fell in love with a very pretty girl. She wasn't beautiful but that was never that important to him. Besides, he was desperately in love so she seemed the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He was so much in love, he couldn't study, couldn't sleep because all he thought about was her and her beautiful eyes and gentle smile - even the very way she breathed. They would meet at odd hours in unusual places and those were the moments he lived for – the time when he was with her and could hold her next to him, smelling her hair and feeling her lips on his. He was a sad, pitiful boy."

"Why do you say he was pitiful?" Sigrid watched Adam but he was staring at the white wall.

"Because he loved more than he was loved - but he didn't know it. He gave his whole heart up – just gave it up and put it into her cold hands."

"I see…" Her voice drifted into silence.

"One early morning, the dean called Matt into his office and told him that if his evaluations didn't improve, he would be sent home; if Matt wanted to waste his time and money, that was his business, but his seat could be taken by someone more deserving. The dean also wrote his father who then sent a letter to his son, chastising him, telling him that he was spending a small fortune to have him educated and to take advantage of the situation that so many young men didn't have and wouldn't ever have.

"Of course, Matt felt guilty for wasting his father's money – it wasn't easily made, but there was the girl and he wanted her. So, gathering his courage, Matt asked her to marry him, said he was willing to forgo everything for her, to give up his education, if need be – if only she would marry him. And she said, no. Her father forbade it as Matt was a nobody in Boston, the mere grandson of the captain of a merchant ship. Why the old man didn't even own the ships he sailed. And to compound it, his father was a clodhopper and she couldn't live on a farm and milk cows. Unthinkable.

"So, his heart was shattered." Adam turned to look at Sigrid. "I use that word because it's as if his heart broke into a hundred little pieces. But he went on living – practically an automaton, writing his papers on philosophy and studying theories of mathematics – all of it. And as time passed, he recovered to some degree but things were never the same for him after that. Never. The sun never shone as bright, the water not as sweet, the grass a duller shade of green."

Sigrid reached out a hand and placed it on Adam's knee.

"Why, Sigrid, are you feeling sorry for me? None of this happened to me. I'm telling you about someone else, far removed."

"Of course, you are. What happened to him next?"

Adam laughed. "Oh, next. Sadly, Sigrid, it only gets worse, only more pathetic, more doleful. It'll have you in tears before the end. You see, when he was about 30, he fell in love again. To him, she was wonderful and beautiful and the finest woman he'd ever met. He would gladly have dropped to his knees and worshipped her, but she was different; she loved God more than him, couldn't marry him because he had his own beliefs that didn't jibe with hers. But this time, when this woman turned away from him, it wasn't as devastating as that first time so many years ago. And he went on living, only to fall in love a third time. At least it passed as love and he convinced himself it was love.

"And this love made him happy, although the woman in question, she had a past that warped her view on love and marriage. But it wasn't her fault; she seemed to loved him, wanted to marry him and he saw happy years stretching out ahead of him, both of them. You see, the affair reassured him he could still love as he hadn't thought he was able to anymore. But, and here's the joke, Sigrid - see, the woman he loved and planned to make his wife, she realized she actually loved someone else. Interestingly enough though, instead of this being devastating to him, when she told him, he was relieved – he didn't have to marry her after all. And that reaction of his, the feeling that he had been reprieved, made him wonder if there was something lacking in him. Was he the reason all his grand romances failed? It made him wonder.

"So, he saw women, had relationships but found his most gratifying ones were with a few whores he knew over the years. They were always glad to see him and all they wanted from him was a good time and the money. And once he left them, he didn't have to think about them again."

Sigrid lay looking at her husband's profile. "Does Matt's story have a happy ending?"

Adam looked at her. "He's not dead yet so it's unknown what the end will be. But, he did marry. Are you surprised?"

"A little. Was it a marriage of necessity?"

"More or less. He decided to marry someone he didn't love. That, to him, seemed the most reasonable way to go - don't give what's left of your heart – that type of thinking. But the damnedest thing," Adam said, chuckling, "he found he began to care for her – a great deal. Poor, Matt, in love with another woman. And a few slivers of his heart is all he has left to share. See, he doesn't have much to give her and as old as he is, well, there's not much chance he'll change."

"Maybe his wife doesn't want him to change. Maybe she's thought about it long and hard and…does she love him?"

"He's not sure. And he wonders if it's really that important anymore. I mean, what's love anyway? If two people can manage to make a life together, isn't that more important?"

"I don't know. What do you think is going to happen to him?"

"I honestly don't know."

"What about the woman he loves? What's going to happen to her?"

"Her? Oh, she could have any man she wants; she is lovely. Now, if I were to advise her, I'd tell her to marry for money. Money you can touch and count and stack and enjoy, spend it to make yourself happy. But love? Such a transient emotion – it wavers, fluctuates, comes and goes and can even be killed."

"Or it can grow stronger and endure all things. As it says in Corinthians, '_Love beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things'."_

Adam stood up. "Sigrid, please - don't preach to me. I know what I know and some Bible verse won't change anything" He looked down on Sigrid, so lonely in the bed. "Well, since you're doing fine, I'll let you rest."

"Oh. I was hoping…." Sigrid looked at his face. She knew Adam had just told her of his past, but did he love her? He hadn't said as much. Nor did he want her sympathy or even her understanding; it seemed he didn't require it.

"Hoping what?"

"Just that…that you brought my knitting. It's hard to pass the time. I find I'm thinking far too much and missing my father and Mrs. Hellström." Sigrid was suddenly struck with homesickness.

"I'll bring it. Anything else?"

"The book I was reading. I'm almost finished. If you would bring me those things."

"I will." He bent over and kissed her forehead. Her skin felt hot under his lips. He reached down and stroked her dark hair.

"Adam, if I lose my leg, if the doctor removes it…"

"Sigrid, no one's going to take your leg. You're working yourself into a state."

"Don't treat me like a child. I know about infections – if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out. The same with gangrene or the like. I've seen men with only one leg and such. I also know the doctor is worried about me, more worried than he would be if it was just a simple thing. So, I want you to know that if I lose my leg, I won't hold you to your promise; you can leave me."

Adam was unsure what to say but he knew that he didn't want to lose Sigrid – no matter what happened. "Sigrid, if you want to leave me, break up our marriage, you'll have to walk away on your own two legs. That's the only way it will happen." And Adam pushed the curtain aside to leave. It fell back in place and Sigrid heard the familiar rhythm of his footsteps.

Adam would talk to the doctor; she knew he would. What was going to happen then? And Sigrid wondered, what was going to happen to the two of them, locked up within themselves and hoarding the keys. And she spun the ring on her middle finger.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks to all of you who are reading and kind enough to let me know I have an audience. Wanted to post this before I go to yoga class. And they arrive in Brisbane - at last!**

**Fourteen**

"Now, Cartwright, I have faith in the good doctor, even if you don't." The captain refilled Adam's glass. "I'm sure your wife will be hale by the time we make Brisbane if not sooner." Captain Ashton had taken a bottle of his best scotch whiskey and two glasses and visited Adam's cabin. Doctor Beaumont had been keeping Ashton apprised of Mrs. Cartwright's health and reported that Adam Cartwright had stopped in his office after visiting his wife in sick bay and vowed that if his wife lost her leg due to his incompetence, well, he would personally slice off a most valuable part of the doctor and shove it down his throat. The captain heartily laughed but Dr. Beaumont protested, as he believed that Adam Cartwright was more than capable of emasculating him.

"I'll have renewed faith in your doctor, even declare him a goddamn saint when my wife's up and walking about on both legs." And Adam downed the shot of whiskey. "That is fine scotch. Pour me another, would you?" And the two drank into the late hours.

Later that night, Sigrid, who had been given a small dose of laudanum, just enough to help melt away the pain in her leg so she could sleep, became aware of a weight across her midsection. She managed to wake enough to realize that Adam was lying on his side next to her, one arm across her waist, another underneath her, his forehead resting against her shoulder. In the morning, once she fully woke, Sigrid wondered if it had been a dream as Adam was gone and she was alone in sick bay.

The cabin was empty without Sigrid. Adam found himself wandering over to the windows and gazing out on the sea many times a day. He couldn't read as his eyes went over the lines of words but then he would realize he remembered nothing of it. He strummed on his guitar, tried to compose a new tune, but it seemed all his creativity was gone. So, he spent a great part of the days lying in his berth or wandering the decks, speaking and joking to the seamen; it took his mind off Sigrid and his pervasive feeling of helplessness.

The sick bay wasn't set up for visitors; it was a long, narrow room with a small window at the far end, and the four beds were lined up for efficiency. A cabinet was attached to the wall that held medical paraphernalia such as bandages. After three more days, Mallory, the injured sailor was declared well enough to return to minor duties and Sigrid lay as the only patient, seeing the sky through the window during the day and the stars at night. Sometimes it clouded up and rain fell, oftentimes a pleasant rain but sometimes, it was accompanied with cracks of lightning and the ship was tossed about by the violent waves. At those times, Sigrid prayed for God's protection.

She counted the hours of her days by Adam's visits. He came to the sick bay two or three times a day, sitting on the edge of her bed, often holding her hand, and trying to exude confidence in her recovery. He would ask how she felt and when she replied she felt better, he would smile and then would talk about his day, what had happened and what he did. Sigrid knew he was worried and, in a manner, she was flattered that he would be so concerned. But did it mean he cared for her or that just he didn't want to be married to a cripple? Would he have been solicitous over anyone in her condition?

It was the fourth morning that Adam asked if Jerome Hightower had been to see her yet. "No, he hasn't. I haven't expected him to. Why do you?"

"I saw him yesterday evening strolling about. Fog was rolling in – it was odd to see it - like some huge, monstrous beast that was coming to overtake the ship. Once it reached us, the air became so thick you could barely see your hand in front of you.

"Anyway, I said hello to him, we talked briefly and he asked about you. I suggested he come see you, that you might enjoy a change of visitors. I imagine you're a little bored with me."

"You suggested it? I can't see you suggesting anything of the sort. You never seemed to like him very much – just tolerated him for my sake - but he is a good-hearted man as well as a handsome one."

"Handsome. I suppose you would consider that an attribute," Adam said derisively.

"Adam, I may see him differently than you. Did he tell you about his hopes?"

"No, we never bared our souls," Adam said sardonically. "He did go on about the destruction of the native Aboriginal tribes and how – not mentioning any names, of course – men were raping the land – as well as the native women – of Australia."

"I think you'd like Jerome better if you talked to him about his dreams. Jerome wants to educate the natives of Australia in the hopes they won't end up like the Indians back home, living in poverty and being treated like – well, he says that the Indians are treated like the dregs of society, not given the respect all humans deserve. He's hoping that if he can teach the Aborigines to read English and learn mathematics, well, then they won't sign one-sided contracts that give away their land for pennies."

"Yes, I know," Adam said. "I had to listen to him pontificate about the sins of the white man and about stealing the land from the tribes – not just out west but in the east as well. His suggestion was that all our settled lands be confiscated and handed over to the tribes we – in his words – robbed."

"I've listened to him and I can't say he's completely wrong." Sigrid didn't quite understand why she was defending Jerome so adamantly. It just seemed duplicitous not to.

"Then you agree with him? About turning over the land."

"Do you disagree with him completely? Your family has gathered more acreage than…"

"Sigrid, you forget – you're part of my family now. And what about the land where your father's smithy sits and the house? Do you want him to hand it over to the Bannocks? And then what? Where would he go? Back to Sweden? There were more than likely original inhabitants of Sweden who had lived there for centuries before your ancestors moved in, slaughtering them. How far back do you go to try to make things right?"

"Doesn't it bother you that all that land you own – I mean, _we_ own, was taken away from the Indians?"

Adam looked at her face. She was waiting expectantly. He knew he had to admit to it. "Yes, it does. I've tried to rationalize it a thousand times but Sigrid, after us, there'll be more people living on the land who'll buy it from us and build – what? What will they build that will destroy all the beauty? The land, the earth, it'll outlast us by centuries. It'll go on and on and atrocities will continue to be committed and never put right."

They were silent for a few moments. "When we get to Australia, are we going to be claiming land as ours that belongs to the Aborigines?"

"I don't know, Sigrid." Adam found himself becoming annoyed – probably because he had been bothered by the same thoughts himself. "I would hope our stake is on unpopulated land. I can't see Caleb slaughtering people just for a copper mine."

Sigrid could tell by the clenching of his jaw that Adam was agitated. And she didn't care but continued to press.

"Did Jerome tell you he's engaged to a woman in Australia, an Aboriginal woman?"

"No," Adam said, surprised. "I didn't know that. An Aboriginal woman."

"Yes. She's been teaching in a small schoolhouse some miles out of Brisbane and they fell in love by exchanging letters. Her name is Yara; it means seagull, he said. They've never seen each other. I asked him how he would feel if he wasn't attracted to her but he said he already loved her without ever seeing here and having her there physically could only make their love stronger. Isn't that beautiful?"

"Downright goddamn poetic." Adam looked at Sigrid who seemed transported by the romance. "I wish them luck, Sigrid. I have a feeling they'll need it."

"Have you ever been attracted to an Indian woman, Adam?" Sigrid waited. She had been wondering ever since Jerome had told her about Yara, if Adam had ever loved a Bannock or Paiute woman. "Or your friend Matt?"

Adam laughed. "No, I can honestly say neither Matt nor I have. But then I haven't known many. Maybe, if I spent more time among them, I would have. Did that answer your question?"

"One more question. If we had only written to one another, if I was a mail-order bride, so to speak, would you have been disappointed when you saw me?"

Adam smiled, placed a kiss on her hand and then stood, telling her he'd be back later. He walked away a few steps and then turned. She waited, barely breathing. "Sigrid, if…you wouldn't disappoint me. And as far as the copper mine and maybe the silver mine, I can only say I hope there hasn't been any…slaughter of Aborigines in order for Caleb to post a claim. But if we find there has been, well, we can talk about it and what we choose to do – you and I together. All right?"

"Yes, Adam. All right."

He walked out and Sigrid wanted to cry; the room was so empty without him.

~ 0 ~

In the middle of the second week, after careful medical ministrations, Doctor Beaumont stitched the wound closed. His hands shook slightly from nervousness since Adam Cartwright stood behind him, watching, as Sigrid sniffed the chloroform.

"Mrs. Cartwright, it's over now." The doctor gently patted her hand and Sigrid, barely able to focus, looked at him. She slurred her thanks and then, her hand dropping limply to her side, still holding the hanky, she closed her eyes. The voices of her husband and the doctor were a low buzz. In her muddled state, she wondered if their conversation was as antagonistic as it seemed to her. But it didn't matter – it didn't matter. She had sniffed too much chloroform near the end of the procedure and had almost put herself under. Now she could rest.

Having no idea how much time had passed, Sigrid opened her eyes and Adam smiled, leaning over. He had been waiting, he said.

"How's my girl feeling?"

Her mouth was dry when she tried to answer so she licked her lips. "Could I have some water?' Her voice came out as a low croak.

"Of course. Anything you want." Adam went to fetch water for her. Sigrid sighed and felt her whole body relax. Everything was fine. She moved her leg. Yes, it hurt. Her leg was still there; she had only dreamed it was gone, had been cut off with a huge saw.

The next morning, she was eager to go back to the cabin.

"Now," the doctor said, sitting in the chair Adam had occupied the day before, "if there is any redness, any swelling, you must tell me – immediately."

"I will. I promise!" She was impatient. Adam was to bring her clothes so she wouldn't have to be carried back in her nightclothes.

"And as for walking, start out with short walks about the deck - but tomorrow – not today. And I am afraid you will have a scar – a narrow one but still a scar. I had to trim the edges of the wound and since there had been an infection…"

Sigrid put out her hand and rested it on the doctor's arm. "I understand, doctor, I do. And don't feel bad about it – it's nothing – no worse than the scars from my skinned knees as a child. Besides, the only people who will know are you and me and my husband." She smiled and the doctor couldn't help but think that she was far too good, far too lovely, for her husband. Adam Cartwright seemed to have a seed of violence in him, albeit he had never shown it toward his bride, at least to his knowledge. But perhaps, if a man was going into an unknown wilderness and taking along a wife, that seed of violence may protect them both. And he couldn't see Adam Cartwright rejecting his lovely bride merely because one of the legs she wrapped about his waist had a scar.

~ 0 ~

Although she knew she should be excited, as excited as Jerome Hightower was, when they slowly pulled into the port of Brisbane, Sigrid wasn't. Instead, she felt gripped with fear of the unknown. But Adam was neither excited nor was he afraid – he was decidedly on an "even keel" – a maritime term she had learned. Adam thanked the captain and said goodbye to various seamen who were on deck. One said that they could have used his help in handling the sails as they lowered them to enter the bay and others bandied about comments that his strong back would be a help unloading and loading their cargo unless, of course, he had injured his back working over his wife; if that was the case, there were more than enough volunteers to keep his wife on her back while he helped them. Adam laughed and replied with vulgarities of his own that made the sailors laugh good naturedly.

Jerome gave Sigrid a gentle hug, keeping his eye on her husband; he didn't want to give Adam any reason to punch him.

"You'll be careful, won't you please?" Sigrid asked. "You don't know anyone and there may be highwaymen and others who would take advantage of you. And are the Aborigines hostile? Would the kill you with their odd weapons?"

He laughed lightly. "Oh, Sigrid, you do have quite the imagination but there's no need to worry. I have my map and I do know someone, my fiancée Yara. And I don't believe the natives here are hostile. Actually, I think the problem is they're too passive."

"But you have to get to Yara first," Sigrid said. She feared something terrible would happen to Jerome; he was so idealistic - just had she had been long ago. But as experience had changed her, the time aboard ship hadn't seemed to touch Jerome's optimism at all. He kissed her cheek and then said he was on his way to his future – but first, he had to hire a wagon. So grinning, he debarked, carrying his two bags, and once on the wooden dock, he put down one bag and turned to wave at her. Sigrid waved back and then watched Jerome Hightower make his way into Brisbane.

"A fine, young man – don't you think?"

Sigrid, startled, looked for the voice and saw Doctor Beaumont walking up beside her. He had removed her stitches the week before and declared that she was healed completely.

_"__You seem happy to hear it," Sigrid said to Adam, after the doctor left the cabin. She had lain in her berth while the doctor had gingerly clipped each stich and with a specialized tweezer, pulled out the threads._

_"__Oh, I am happy, very happy. Let me see that leg - make sure he did a good job." Adam sat on the edge of the berth, bending his head in the small space, and lifted her leg to his lap, pushing up her skirt to examine her calf. "Looks just fine." He slid his hand up her inner thigh and Sigrid jumped a bit and slapped at his hand, but Adam kept it placed on the soft flesh of her upper thigh, grinning. "What's wrong?" _

_"__It's morning – daytime! Have you no discretion? No manners?"_

_"__None. Absolutely none. Now, I suggest we make use of this berth again; it's been a while…." Sigrid felt herself being shifted about and soon Adam's mouth was on hers and she was lying exposed to all his desires. Suddenly, she realized something that almost made her gasp – she desired this man, would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. _

_It was then, afterwards, that she took inventory of all the scars and marks on his body. As Adam lay on his back, she lightly ran her hand over him and every time she found a mark, a depression, she would ask about it and Adam would answer, sometimes willingly, other times, reluctantly. And then she would lightly kiss the scar._

_"__And what about this one?" Sigrid asked, touching above his lip where an old scar marred his beauty. "An accident shaving?"_

_"__Oh, that one. Fell out of a tree waiting for my father and Hoss so we could go to church. Landed flat – knocked the wind out of me. Bled all over my Sunday clothes and I had to sit still while Hop Sing cleaned it and stitched it shut; that hurt more than anything – after all this time, I still remember the pain." _

_"__Did anyone kiss it and make it better?" she asked._

_"__Who would? My father? Hop Sing? But if you would deign to kiss it, it would make all of it worthwhile," Adam said._

_"__Of course." And smiling, Sigrid wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him to her._

"Now, Mrs. Cartwright, I want you to take care of yourself. I can't say I'm familiar with where you're going; we never venture further inland than Brisbane here. But I do worry about…well, here." He handed Sigrid a wooden case, about 12 by 10 inches and 4 inches deep.

"What…" Sigrid took the case, noticing that it had a leather handle; it looked as if it had been often used as the wood had taken a sheen about the clasp.

"It's a few things I've put together – some cotton gauze, bandage rolls, sulfa powder, camphor oil, laudanum pills and a few other things you may need. Please, don't take umbrage at what I am to say…I have often been of the opinion that you deserve better than the man you married." Sigrid started to protest, to defend Adam but Doctor Beaumont put up a hand. "Please, allow me to finish. It is to your merit that you desire to defend him and I truly believe that if he can invite such love from you, then he must have traits I do not see. Nevertheless, you will need such a man as he to protect you in the outback. I only hope he appreciates you."

"Thank you, Dr. Beaumont. I didn't know my husband well when we married, but I have grown fond of him – actually more than fond, but I cannot speak of such things with you. I haven't even spoken of my deep feelings to him.

"I want to thank you for the medical case with hopes we won't need anything in it. This is kind of you and thoughtful. I owe you a great deal, doctor, and I don't know how to repay you."

The doctor took her hand. "You owe me nothing and if you desire to repay me, be happy. May God bless you, Mrs. Cartwright." And with that, he left and Sigrid stood alone feeling a sudden loss as both the doctor and Jerome, her only companions on the journey other than Adam, had both left her.

Sigrid stood waiting with the luggage that had been in their cabin while Adam saw to the unloading of their trunks. He secured a driver and wagon to take them into Brisbane, asking about a hotel in which they could stay. Sigrid had yet to say much of anything; everything happened so quickly and she thanked God for Adam; he seemed to manage things confidently and efficiently. What she did notice about Australia was that the weather was balmy and it was practically the end of November. Back home, it would be cold, frost sparkling in the early morning light, the smell of burning wood in fireplaces and stoves filling the air. The Nevada sky would soon be gray with the first snowfalls and in another few months, the lakes would freeze over. Early in the trip, while answering questions about Australia and what was the rainy season and the dry one, Adam had explained the reversal of weather; it disturbed Sigrid's sense of order.

_"__Are you telling me that our fall is their spring?" Sigrid lay in Adam's arms, the two of them wrapped about one another in the small berth._

_"__Weather-wise, yes. The months are the same but since Australia is almost on the opposite side of the world and so far south, the seasons are reversed."_

_"__I don't think I like that," Sigrid said._

_Adam laughed. "There's not much you can do about it." And he held her closer and kissed the top of her head. _

The hotel was nothing like the ones in San Francisco. It was basically a square wooden structure with no particular amenities except that there was room for them. Their room was musty, the windows having been closed. The heavy woman with surprisingly skinny arms who manned the desk, trudged up the stairs before them, her breathing labored from pulling her bulk against gravity, and threw open the two windows, letting in the cooler air.

"Well, if you'll come down the stairs with me, Mister, I'll write a receipt for them trunks what belong to you. I do hope they're locked up nice and tight because I can't promise nothing. This whole town is full of ne'er-do-wells who'd kick their own mother aside to get to money laying in the road before 'er."

"But," Sigrid protested, "the trunks contain…" Adam touched her arm and she realized she should be quiet.

Adam spoke instead. "No one wants your clothing, Sigrid. Now, just take a rest before dinner. I'll be back shortly. I'm going to find a driver to take us inland to Townsville."

Sigrid was silent and the woman left the room but before Adam followed, he waited until the woman was further down the stairs which groaned under her weight. He turned. "Lock the door, Sigrid, and let no one in but me. Understand? And I don't know what your trunks hold, but don't mention their contents. And do me a favor. In my suit jacket lining, the one I was married in, is money. There's a housewife in my bag. Use what you need to get the money; I want to change it into whatever currency they're using here and buy a horse to bring along." And with that, he left her alone.

Sigrid locked the door and placed the key on the bureau with a large, mirror above it. She looked at herself, removing her hat and smoothing her hair and noticed how thin she was. She knew her clothes were looser, the waistbands dropping lower but until now, she hadn't really noticed her appearance. She unbuttoned her jacket and opened the neck of her blouse examining the jutting collarbone. Maybe now that they were back on land, she could put on a few pounds. But she had work to do, unstitching the lining of Adam's suit jacket for the money. She set about it and soon found the thick stack of bills, far more than the $300.00 her father had given her, she was sure. She folded it in half and slipped it in her reticule. No, she thought, it could be snatched from her and according to the desk clerk, the town of Brisbane was rife with cutthroats and thieves.

Sigrid looked about the room. She unlocked the doctor's medicine case and hesitating for a moment, slipped it inside. It should be safe there. At least overnight.

Hours passed and Sigrid paced, wringing her hands. It was becoming late, the sun starting to go down. Where was Adam? She knew he had tucked his gun into his waistband covered by his jacket, but that guaranteed nothing. What would she do if he never returned? What if there was a knock on the door and it was the local constable informing her that her husband was… She froze at an actual knock on the door. But it was followed with, "Sigrid, it's me."

Fumbling the key, Sigrid managed to open the door and threw herself into Adam's arms. "Oh, thank God, you're safe!"

Adam laughed lightly, pushing the door shut behind him. "Of course, I'm safe. And with good news. I hired a driver and wagon for the trip and found a good horse. I'm pretty good at evaluating horseflesh and it looks like a good stallion; they'll hold him for me until tomorrow noon. I almost bought a mare as well but decided against it, but the more I think about it…I just may buy her as well. Now, the bank opens early so I can change the money. Did you get it out of the lining?"

"You don't even care." Sigrid stood, shaking.

Adam stared at her. "Care about what?" He was honestly puzzled. He knew he had been gone for longer than planned but the dickering over the price of horseflesh, well, horse buying required caginess and bargaining and subtle maneuvers. And then there was the driver and wagon. That had taken a while as well. Townsville was quite a way off – at least four days and then some, but Caleb had said it was the closest town to his place, about four miles beyond it. He had spent time bargaining for a decent fare.

"I've been here all alone for hours."

"I'm sorry, Sigrid. Things took longer than I planned. I'm sorry." His voice dropped and he looked to hold her but she pushed him away.

Her voice broke into sobs. "I have been losing my mind worrying about you! Something could have happened to you! You could have been robbed or even killed! It seems all I do is wait for you to come back to me so I can go on living! I can't even breathe until you're back safely with me!"

He pulled her into his arms and she struggled to pull away but he wouldn't release her. Instead he gently shushed her and stroked her hair. "Sigrid, I am sorry. It grieves me to find I've hurt you. Please, sweetheart, please. Don't cry, don't cry."

But she couldn't stop. She felt weak and clung to Adam as she sobbed out her tender heart. Was this to be her whole life? And Sigrid asked herself if loving Adam, if the joy of being with him, of lying next to him in the dark, of feeling his lips on hers and being comforted by the strong beat of his heart was an equal exchange for those hours of agony without him? She didn't know and feared finding the answer.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

Adam held the reins. Beside him sat the hired driver cum guide, Lije Meacham, who had spent most of the morning sipping on a flask that he often handed back to the Aboriginal boy called Jimmy, to refill from a bottle of whiskey. Adam, annoyed and already having paid the $5.00 equivalent in sterling coinage, grabbed the reins and headed in the direction they had discussed before Lije became too drunk to even balance on the seat. Adam stopped the two horses, his purchased horses tied onto the back snuffling and dancing about, and told Lije to sit in the buckboard bed. Lije argued, saying he had been far more drunk many times and did his job just fine, but Adam threatened to knock him on his "goddamn drunk ass". Lije then decided it was in his best interest to comply and clumsily climbed over the seat back while Sigrid crawled up onto the seat beside Adam.

"Watch them," Adam told her under his breath. "He may only be a stinking drunk but just sit at a slant so you can tell if he moves toward us."

"What do you think he might do?"

"He might do nothing, but I don't like having my back to him."

Adam had strapped on his gun belt for the trip and kept a newly purchased loaded rifle at his feet. He was wearing his familiar work clothes and Sigrid, at Adam's prompting, wore a homespun dress and her plain bonnet. The back of the wagon held their trunks, a huge barrel of water, and the supplies Lije had suggested including "waterproofs" as it was close to the rainy season, and two sacks of food. Jimmy, sat with his back against the tailgate while Lije sat propped-up between the trunks singing profane sea shanties, laughing and drinking.

Sigrid nervously kept Lije in the corner of her eye but it was Jimmy who made her most nervous. He had yet, in all the hours they had all been together, to say one word. And he seemed to watch her every move with interest.

Sigrid had been intrigued by the appearance of the Aborigines in Brisbane. They did the menial work about the small hotel where they had stayed and basically, never spoke – just silently followed orders, but they always seemed to watch their white employers. As for their appearance, she had also been surprised at that. She had seen Negroes in her time, only a few - some were former soldiers traveling through and some were hired on as cowhands at local ranches. But Aborigines looked nothing like them – nothing, not even their hair was similar. The Australian natives had dusky skin, the way Adam in Genesis would look if he had literally been made of the earth. But what Sigrid noticed the most, was that they seemed merely observers watching the world age.

Jimmy was rangy, his eyes an odd green-brown, and his hair was a wavy reddish-blond. His trousers were too short, his shirt too big and his shoes either hurt his feet or he just had an aversion for them, for he took them off whenever possible, preferring to go barefoot.

Sigrid couldn't help but think of Jerome and Yara. In her imagination, Sigrid had always pictured Yara more akin to the Bannock or Paiutes. But now that she saw Aborigines, she wondered how Yara looked, if she had the mysterious eyes that all the Aborigines seemed to have – that straight-forward gaze that observed the world. She hoped Jerome found Yara beautiful.

"Do you want me to shut him up, Sigrid?" Adam asked, referring to Lije.

"No. At least when he's singing, we know where he is."

"I suppose so. I'm sorry about all this. I hired him because I didn't like the looks of the other men and Lije had been a sailor for so long that I suppose I hoped he would be like my grandfather was – a bad-tempered curmudgeon but harmless."

"It's all right, Adam – I've heard worse language in Swedish when my father hammered a thumb in the smithy. I just wish it wouldn't take so long to get where we're going." Sigrid slipped her arm through Adam's and he turned and gave her a weak smile. "Oh, Adam, I wish I could get behind and push the wagon faster, I'm so impatient." She leaned her head against his arm. What she didn't tell Adam was that she feared bushrangers – what the highwaymen were called in those parts. That morning, waiting on Adam to pay their hotel bill, Sigrid had asked the desk clerk about the safety of traveling. The woman told her she didn't really know as she had no intention of going any further inland. But she said, the day of the bushrangers, transported convicts who roamed the countryside robbing and thieving and killing anyone who didn't comply, were almost gone. But a few still took on travelers although they rarely murdered their victims – only if they put up a fight.

It was early evening, from what Sigrid could tell. She wasn't wearing her watch as she didn't want to be seen wearing anything of value and the silver watch that hung from an intricate silver bar had been a gift from her father. It had been Sigrid's mother's and once Sigrid turned 16, her father had given it to her with tears in his eyes, kissing his daughter on both cheeks.

All they had eaten that afternoon was some soda crackers and cured sausages. Sigrid had passed out the food, while Adam still drove the horses. Jimmy ate hungrily and Lije made ribald remarks about the shape of the sausage and a man's privates. It was then Adam turned in his seat and stated that if Lije didn't shut his filthy mouth around his wife, he'd shut it for him - permanently. Sigrid tried to calm Adam but the only thing that did was Lije's apology to them both.

For the rest of the day, Adam was quiet, as well as Lije who finally napped, snoring loudly. Jimmy's head also drooped as they rode along. After another two hours or so, Sigrid knew Adam could see the sun close to setting but he gave no hint of stopping. By then Lije was awake but he was disinclined to speak to Adam without Adam instigating the conversation. Apparently he remembered the threat.

"Adam? Are we going to go all night?" Sigrid asked.

Adam glanced at her. He knew the trip so far had been unpleasant – even worse than unpleasant – miserable. He felt responsible since he had chosen Lije to guide them and the man was a crude, vulgar drunk. And then there was the silent Aborigine boy. Adam wondered if he could talk.

"No, I suppose not. Let's stop here." Adam pulled up the horses, stepped on the brake and then jumped down. It was a clearing with some boulders Adam could put at their backs. Although he had Lije's compass to guide him, the going was slower than Adam had expected due to the land. There was no road and he often had to go about a tangle of trees or an outcropping of boulders.

Lije asked if they were stopping for the night and Jimmy pulled on his shoes. Adam said they were and then lifted down Sigrid who then pulled out the sacks of food.

Jimmy," she asked, "would you gather some wood, please?"

Jimmy grinned for the first time, showing large white teeth. He quickly scampered down from the back and set about gathering wood. Adam watched; the boy worked quickly and seemed to have no fear of anything that might be hiding in the underbrush.

"I think you may have an admirer," Adam said quietly to her while he found the frying pan in the smaller trunk. He jumped down. "Jimmy seems to like you." Lije had left, swaying as he walked a few feet into the woods to rid himself of a gut full of whiskey.

"Adam," Sigrid said as he worked with a knife opening two cans of beans, "do you think Lije would slit our throats as we slept? I mean, what would he have to lose out here if he did? He would have our goods, the horses, everything, and no one would be any the wiser."

"Sigrid, there aren't elves and trolls hiding behind every rock." He understood that he had hinted at possible danger from Lije, but he felt she was going a bit far with her fears.

"I know that, Adam. But I still wonder…I mean we're at his mercy out here."

"Or he's at ours. If you want, Sigrid, I'll slit his throat as he sleeps and then we won't have to worry about him anymore. Just say the word. Here." Adam sat the opened cans on the ground.

"Adam, you're not funny." She dropped her voice as Jimmy was trotting back with his arms full of wood. "I'm serious."

Adam stood up and pulled off his black Stetson, running his hands through his hair. "So am I, Sigrid. As I said, just say the word." She stared at him, open-mouthed. "I'll go find the coffee pot," Adam said, heading back to the wagon.

Dinner was thick slices of bacon, the beans fried in the grease, and torn hunks of the fresh salt-rising bread they had bought at a small bakery in Brisbane. Lije said he and Jimmy had brought along food – jerky and hard tack, but Sigrid insisted they eat what she had cooked and Jimmy had looked to Lije. Sigrid knew the boy was hungry as any 13-year-old boy would be.

"Thank you, ma'am," Lije said, "me and the boy'll be pleased." Sigrid served them first and then Adam and herself. As Sigrid washed off the plates – no food was left to be scraped off and Jimmy had even licked his plate clean - Lije began to stretch and yawn.

"I seem to be getting drowsy early; I must be more boiled than I thought. Let me make up my roll but if I were you, ma'am, I'd look to sleep in the wagon. There's all types of creepy crawly things about here – snakes and spiders and creatures what'll kill you. No big ones, nothing bigger than a dog – at least not hereabouts – but size don't matter out here. That's my advice to you, what your husband done paid me for."

Adam glanced up from his cup of coffee and then spat on the ground. The action wasn't missed by Lije; he had crossed the big man one too many times already and knew not to push him. So Lije, barely able to keep his eyes open, put down his bed roll near the fire while Jimmy, pulling off his shoes, rolled himself up in a blanket and soon the two were dead asleep.

"I'll sit watch, Sigrid, but I think it's a good idea, you sleeping in the wagon." Adam kneeled by the fire, feeding the flames.

"You need to sleep as well. You did most of the driving." Sigrid, stacking the dishes in the bed of the wagon, leaned over the wooden side.

Adam stood up and looked about, The land they were passing through was relatively open with clumps of brush, stacks of boulders, and stands of tall, odd trees. The grasses would be good for grazing sheep, he considered, and the staked horses could easily get a belly-full.

"I'm not worried about wild animals or such, but I don't know about…" Adam looked a Lije who was snoring heavily.

"Adam, I have to confess…I feel a little guilty, but I crushed a laudanum pill in their food, one from the supplies Doctor Beaumont gave us; they'll sleep well so you can too."

"Well, Sigrid, you are a crafty one. Just don't pull it on me." Adam grinned and climbed up in the wagon where she was laying down some blankets. The night was cool and Adam, lying facing her in the sleeping area she had carved out among all the luggage and supplies, pulled her next to him, kissing her neck and cupping her breasts.

"Adam – not now, not out here…we should just go to sleep" The idea of having relations in a wagon bed, out in the open with others about seemed sordid - forbidden. And yet she felt the warmth that always rose in her when he was near.

"Sleep? I'm not really tired – yet." Adam kissed her neck and slipped his hand up her skirt and Sigrid felt herself go weak. She closed her eyes, seduced by his voice in her ear, his lips on her hot skin.

Later in her life, when she thought of that night, she always remembered the feeling, as if she was back on the ship, being pitched about higher and higher until she came crashing down. Afterwards, when she opened her eyes, Sigrid was surprised to see the stars remained shining as they had always been – that the world was the same as it had always been. But she wasn't. Something had happened to her that night that changed her. And when she stroked Adam's hair as he lay his head on her breast, Sigrid smiled as tears gently fell from her closed eyes and realized this was the mystery finally revealed to her.

~ 0 ~

The next few days went much better. Every morning they were awakened by an unusual bird call. Sigrid said it was the oddest sound she had heard and pointed at the bird sitting in a tree overhead.

"Oh, that's a kookaburra, ma'am. Better'n any rooster you might ever have for wakin' a man in the morning, He's just singin' out his territory. " Lije said as he gathered up his bed roll.

Still looking at it, Sigrid asked, "How do you know it's a 'he'?"

Lije laughed. "Cause he's got the pretty blue feathers. The female, she looks dull by comparison. Unlike you, I might say." He looked at her and smiled.

Sigrid blushed. She wondered if Lije had truly been asleep, if his snores had been sincere, or if he had been wakened by her cries of pleasure. But it was too late now anyway.

After the first day on the trip, Lije stayed sober during the day, only drinking in the evenings. He and Adam took turns driving the horses and consulting the compass, while Sigrid rode in the back of the wagon with Jimmy. The boy watched her carefully and it made Sigrid nervous and self-conscious. She moved to sit against a run with her back to Jimmy but she could still feel his green-brown eyes boring into the back of her head.

The second night, Sigrid asked Adam if she should add another pill to Lije's and Jimmy's food – she didn't really want to.

"I feel like I'm poisoning them."

Adam chuckled. "You and Lucretia Borgia, huh?"

"Who?" she asked. "Is that someone in Virginia City? Perhaps an old love of yours?"

Adam paused; of course, how would Sigrid know about one of the most notorious women in history. "No, she was – never mind."

"Well, tell me, Adam. Is she someone you knew?"

"No. She died before I was even born. Lived in Italy."

"Oh. I guess I'm showing my ignorance – again. Well, should I use a pill on them?"

Adam was slicing the bacon and glanced across the campsite as Lije was trying to light the leaves piled on the top of the kindling. Stacked next to it were the larger pieces of wood. Lije used the hatchet from the wagon's tool box to split the thicker pieces. Adam mulled it over. He didn't like the fact that that same hatchet could be used to split his skull.

"Just Lije. Let the boy be."

Sigrid nodded and went to slip a pill into the skirt pocket of her dress.

On the third day out, it rained heavily and it was too wet to make a fire so that day, they ate cold meals of the bread which they finished, accompanied with slices of Stilton cheese. Jimmy ate as if it was a feast. That night, Lije and Jimmy slept under a tree while Sigrid and Adam slept in their oilcloth waterproofs in the wagon, wet and miserable – at least Sigrid. Adam had arranged things, created a spot where she could lie her head and not have rain fall on her face. As for Adam, he just sat against a trunk and pulled his hat down.

The next day, although it didn't rain, the air was thick with moisture and Sigrid was miserable; her clothes were uncomfortably damp from the day before and the dark strands of loose hair stuck to her cheeks and neck. She wanted a bath, knew she stank, but there wasn't a lake or even a large pond, and the water in the barrel was sparingly doled out. But she refrained from complaining. After all, what could be done? And Sigrid knew Adam would snap at her and make another sarcastic remark if she complained about anything else.

The whole time they traveled, Jimmy never spoke. On the fourth day out, Adam told Lije to stop the wagon, asked Sigrid to hand him his rifle, took careful aim, and killed a rabbit, the largest rabbit Sigrid had ever seen. Jimmy had jumped out of the wagon bed to fetch it, running the distance, and grinning, held it up for all to see. Sigrid estimated that it had to be at least a yard from head to toe.

"I didn't even know Australia had rabbits," Sigrid said. "It seems too ordinary an animal."

"Didn't," Lije said as Jimmy scurried back, tossing the rabbit over the back of the wagon before climbing back in. "Must have been – well, I don't know how long ago, but some settlers brought rabbits and since then, well, the whole goddamn place is overrun with rabbits. But gives the dingoes somethin' to eat instead of the sheep – or a person."

Jimmy cleaned it, skinning it with Lije's huge "pig-sticker"and offered Sigrid the fur. Sigrid declined and Jimmy rolled it up and later, after the rabbit was cooked on a makeshift spit, Jimmy tossed the rabbit skin in the flames.

"Why did Jimmy burn it?" Sigrid asked Adam as they lay together in the back of the wagon.

"Probably to keep predators away. You never know what's out there." Adam shifted about, trying to get comfortable as he gathered Sigrid in his arms.

"Where do you think Jimmy's parents are? I wonder why he's with Lije. What do you think, Adam?"

"I think it's none of our business. Lije may yell and bark orders to the boy but until he hurts him, I think we should mind our own business. Now, let's get some sleep."

On their last evening while Jimmy was gathering firewood, Sigrid turned to Adam. "I'm going to find out about Jimmy."

"What if you find out something you wish you didn't know?" Adam stood up straight. He had been checking the driver side wagon wheel for the source of a creak that had grown louder as the day went on.

"Well, I'll find out what I can." Sigrid stalked over to Lije and asked, "I want to know, Mr. Meacham, can Jimmy speak?"

"Sure can, Ma'am. He can jabber like that kookaburra when he's around another Abo; they got their own language, you know. Seems he don't have much to say to no white people though – not even me. But he does seem to be taken with you. My guess is he's never seen anyone so pale before. Lots of legends among them Abos. Jimmy probably thinks you're a walkin' ghost and a pretty one at that."

Sigrid didn't know what to make of that comment. "Where are his parents?"

"Damned if I know. Doubt even Jimmy knows. But I pay him fair enough for what he does – actually more than what others might, and I feed him free. I have a soft spot of sorts for the boy – found him about six years ago wand'rin' the streets of Brisbane barely covered by some bits of rags, beggin' for food. So, I took him on but that don't keep me from cuffing him good if he deserves it – nothin' worse'n any father would do to set right a son. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

Sigrid recognized a brush-off. "No. Nothing." She turned slowly and walked back to the wagon to fetch the skillet.

It was night on the 7th day out that Adam pulled the wagon up to a small house, the windows alight with a golden glow. A chicken coop, covered by wire mesh sat next to the house and what seemed a barn stood a few yards away. There was a fenced corral attached to it but no animals were inside now.

Sigrid lay on the seat next to Adam, her head on his thigh, sleeping; Lije and Jimmy were in the back, Lije snoring away. Jimmy was still awake and when Adam stopped the wagon, Jimmy clambered up and squatted behind the seats. Sigrid could smell him as the sudden halting movement woke her.

She noticed from the first day of their trip that Jimmy had an odd smell, like wet earth. Lije always stank of sour whiskey and stale sweat. But she could also smell Adam and worst of all, could barely stand herself. When she would lift her skirts behind a bush, she wrinkled her nose at the smell. Adam had laughed when she mentioned desperately needing to wash; he joked she'd get used to smelling like a civet cat. But Sigrid had begun to cry and Adam, impatient and tired, asked her if everything he said for the rest of their lives would make her burst out in tears. If so, he would remain silent around her. And that night, when Adam tried to pull her into his arms to sleep, Sigrid had pulled away and they slept back to back. It was a long whole day before she spoke to him again, choosing instead to ignore his small attempts to make amends.

"I hope to hell we're here," Adam said wearily as he tied off the reins. He jumped down from his seat but before he could go around to help Sigrid, the door of the small house opened, light flooding out onto the small porch and the dirt yard, and a man stepped out shouldering a rifle.

"Who are you and what…" The rifle slowly lowered and the man laughed. "Well I'll be damned! Adam Cartwright!. Is that you, you son-of-a-bitch?"

"In the flesh," Adam said laughing and stepped forward to hug his friend. The men slapped each other on the backs, exchanging greetings, glad to see one another, and then Adam turned to the wagon.

"I brought a wife. This is Sigrid." He swung his arm toward her and Sigrid forced a quivering smile.

Adam had said "a" wife – not "my" wife. Sigrid knew then that she had only been fooling herself – Adam had needed a wife just as he had told her so long ago, and it was she. In her mind, he may just as well have said to his friend, "I brought a stallion, a mare and a wife; I'm good at judging horseflesh but as for women, well, Sigrid will serve."


	16. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

Adam, Lije and Jimmy along with Caleb Morgan, fed and watered the four horses. Caleb made room in the crowded barn and the horses nickered and huffed at one another. Lije and Jimmy, given slices of smoked pork and cold potatoes, stayed in the barn to eat and sleep on the dry straw. As usual, Jimmy wrapped himself in his blanket like a cocoon and Lije, with his flask as his sleeping companion, rolled out his blankets and after a few slugs, fell fast asleep.

Caleb Morgan introduced his wife to Adam and Sigrid – Madrigal. She was taller than Sigrid, a big woman with corn-yellow hair worn in a single braid. Not particularly pretty, her skin already showing lines from working outside, but Maddy had cheerful blue eyes and a ready smile that made one forget she was plain.

"Just call me, Maddy," she said, with an accent that betrayed her Australian roots. "Everyone does. Now, you two sit down here at the table and let me feed you."

Sigrid felt bone-weary, remaining on the settee where she had readily sat. "I'm really not hungry, thank you anyway, Maddy."

"But I have fresh roasted pork shoulder – not salted or smoked - and some potatoes. We have a pigsty out back and smoke our own pork but it's a nice change to have some fresh. I'll give you some piglets when you're settled in – we have far too many anyway and it's trouble keeping them away from the boar. It's also a way to rid yourself of food scraps that won't attract anything. Now, the bread I made just this morning with more than enough to last for breakfast." Maddy spoke as she walked back and forth from the cooking area, bringing out plates, tin flatware and bread on a cutting board.

"You wouldn't happen to have a nice shot of whiskey around?" Adam asked, dropping into one of the wooden, ladder-back chairs at the round table. He was tired as well, having taken turns with Lije driving the horses all day. They hadn't stopped to eat, just ate cold food all day. One the sun dropped, Lije had become drowsy and crawled in the back so Adam drove alone the last three hours, everyone else asleep; he was determined to reach their destination that day.

Caleb grinned at Adam's request. He was a handsome man, about Adam's age, with tangled, dark-blond hair and deep-brown eyes. It was obvious he worked out of doors as his face, neck and arms were tanned and he had crinkles about his eyes and a permanently wrinkled brow. But while Adam was solidly built with well-muscled arms and a broad back, Caleb was slender. "You sure you want a drink, now? I buy some moonshine or whatever you want to call it…"

"Poison," Maddy said from the rear section of the room where she was heating up coffee for Adam. "That's what I call it since I think it'll kill him one day. Rot out his gut and leave me nothing but an empty sack of flesh to bury."

"Now, Maddy, don't start on that again. They drink it and seem to do just fine." Maddy just snorted in disgust. "I buy this stuff from an Abo who comes by every two weeks or so. I don't know what they use to make it since they don't grow potatoes or corn, but it serves. Make you sing like a canary with a new beak. Let me get the jug."

"It sounds good to me," Adam said. "Sigrid, won't you eat something?"

"No…I'm really not hungry but if I could just wash…and I'm so tired…" She felt her eyes fill with tears of frustration. They were finally with Adam's friends and it was nothing like what she had pictured in her imagination.

"Of course," Maddy said, stopping what she was doing and wiping her hands on her apron. "You poor thing. I should have thought of that. I remember how awful it was traveling out here four years ago. Now, tonight, you two'll sleep in the loft and Caleb and I will sleep down here."

Adam argued that they didn't travel all that way in order to put their hosts out of their bed. Adam compromised - Madrigal and Sigrid could sleep up in the loft and he would sleep in the wagon; he wanted to watch the cargo anyway. As for Caleb, he could sleep wherever he chose as long as it wasn't on top of Sigrid. Everyone laughed except Sigrid. She glowered at Adam and noticing, the others quickly stopped their mirth.

"Now, Sigrid," Maddy said, "come with me and I'll show you the washhouse." Maddy put her arm around Sigrid's shoulders and led her out of the house.

~ 0 ~

As exhausted as she was, Sigrid couldn't sleep, her mind running in circles. Her eyes burned like coals in her head as she lay in the dark loft staring at the wall. After serving Adam dinner, Maddy, telling them she'd leave the two friends to talk, had climbed up the ladder and after discarding her simple dress, quietly slipped into the bed wearing only her chemise. Soon Maddy was breathing evenly, sleeping soundly, so Sigrid lay still and listened to the low sounds of the men talking and laughing below. She wondered about "their" house, the one she and Adam were to inhabit. Was it like this one? This house was basically one big room with a cooking area in the back, a door leading out to the backyard. And there was a ladder that led up to the loft which held mainly a bed and a chest of drawers. Was this what she had come all this way for? To live in a hovel? Oh, what her father would say! And despite herself, Sigrid finally fell asleep.

"So, how long have you two been married?" Caleb asked, pouring them each a drink.

"Let's see –it's what? Late November? Almost two months."

"Two months!"

"You said to bring a wife so I went out and found one." Adam downed the glass, making a face as the liquid coursed down his throat.

"How the hell did you convince Sigrid to marry you and travel out here - someone that beautiful? Your natural Cartwright charm?" Caleb poured each of them another drink from the clay jug with odd markings on it. At first sight of the liquid, Adam had asked if any of the symbols on the jug meant poison. Caleb had laughed and said one of them probably was; it was more than likely an Abo joke on a "Gubber". For all he knew, it was a collection of piss – and bad piss at that, as it was milky. But Caleb had raised his glass to Adam, stating how good it was to see his old friend again and to laugh with him, get drunk with him; there were so many things he couldn't discuss with Madrigal, things only another man could understand.

"I was surprised how little convincing it did take," Adam said, "seeing we didn't know each other that well." His head was becoming light, a sign he was on his way to getting very drunk. "She demanded part of my share in the mine so I gave it to her." He swirled the milky, amber liquid about in his cup.

"So, you two are only business partners then," Caleb said. He was becoming drunk as well. "That's a shame; she's a real beauty with that dark hair and blue eyes. But then you always were a lucky bastard when it came to women." He chuckled. "A goddamn lucky bastard who could have any woman he wanted."

Adam smiled, mainly to himself. "She is a beauty, isn't she, and we're far more than business partners – I've enjoyed her greatly. But I swear, nothing I say seems to please her. The only time I can please her is when she's on her back."

"There are worse things," Caleb said. "Trust me. I've lived with a spiteful woman – not Madrigal. Madrigal I met on a trip to Dalby – there's a government office there that files claims. She worked in the office and we took a liking to one another. She'd only met one other American at that time and didn't much like him. But she and I, we hit it off so I romanced her, married her and bedded her all within a week. Things move quickly out here and a woman has to pick a husband in a short time."

"What if she decides she doesn't like him," Adam said, swallowing the fiery liquid. He could feel it go down and spreading a drowsy warmth.

"Then she rids herself of him howsoever she can. Not much law hereabouts and a man can rot into the ground before his bones are found – picked clean."

"So, tell me about the spiteful one?" Adam stopped drinking. He knew he was going past drunk to glassy-eyed if he continued.

"A whore who worked in Jimboomba. Part Abo, she was, and bedding her was like bedding one of those snakes that comes slithering about – you have to watch your step the whole time. But if I did something she didn't like or said the wrong thing, I had to sleep with one eye open or I'd end up with a knife in my belly. It took only one time with a knife in my shoulder to learn to give her a wide berth. She ended up burning down the house we shared with me still sleeping in it – I managed to get out with only a scorched ass and my trousers. She just walked off into the bushland and I never saw her again. But I still keep my guard up – she might sniff me out."

Adam laughed, turning the glass in his hands. "There was a woman in Abilene named Jacy long ago. She was a barmaid and her husband was locked up – five years, I believe. She was waiting patiently for him but didn't mind taking a tumble and she liked me – or so she said. She probably liked the money I tossed about – much of it ending up in her two hands. She was pretty in a raw sort of way. Every time I was in Abilene for a cattle drive, I'd go see her and when she was through for the night, we'd go out to her house and have a damn good time. One time, I swear we stayed in bed for three days, only leaving to eat and piss." Adam grinned remembering. "Then one time, oh, about eight years ago, I was in Abilene and she wasn't working – the Last Chance saloon. I waited but no Jacy. So, I asked one of the other girls. She told me Jacy's husband got out of prison and for a reason no one ever knew, shot her dead and then himself. I figure maybe she had been laying with someone else she liked, but who knows?"

The two men sat silently, each lost in their own thoughts of past loves, past alliances with the wrong women.

Adam glanced up at the bottom of the loft and thought of Sigrid. He wondered if she would one day take a knife to him like the whore from Jimboomba did to Caleb. It wouldn't surprise him if one morning he woke feeling a keen blade pressed against his throat for something he thoughtlessly did the night before. He knew that Sigrid held her feelings, her passions, inside and it was only when he had her on her back that she dug her nails into his shoulders, urging him on. He thought of how lovely her face looked, how her narrow waist felt when he grabbed it, and his desire rose. He would go drag her down the ladder, make her tell him how she felt about him. Adam wanted to know – had to know. And then he'd take her outside and cover her in the grasses under the stars and she could cry out her pleasure to the heavens.

"Where are you going?" Caleb asked as Adam rose, still looking at the loft.

"To get Sigrid. I want to talk to her – ask her how she feels about our being married, about me."

"Adam," Caleb said, grabbing his arm. "I may be drunk, probably drunker than you, but even I know to let your wife sleep. In the morning, when you're dead sober, if you still want to ask her, then you can."

"But," Adam said. "I want to see her, want to kiss her, to hold her and tell her how I feel. I love Sigrid. I do. I need to tell her while I have the courage." The ground rolled underneath his feet; he had drunk too much. The Aboriginal concoction was far more potent than whiskey or anything else Adam had ever imbibed.

"Do you think the words of a drunken husband will mean anything to her? If you slobber all over her tonight, think that'll make her love you? For all the women you've known, Adam, you didn't pick up much about the way their minds work, did you? Now, go out to your wagon and sleep. The night air might clear your head and, in the morning, you'll know you made the right decision."

Adam looked again to where Sigrid was sleeping. He ached to hold her in his arms and kiss her neck and round breasts. But Caleb was right – he knew that. No one could understand women. Even his father had said as much to him.

_"__Women don't think the same way we do, Adam. I wish they did – it would be a helluva lot easier to understand them then. So, son, my advice, don't try to understand any woman – it'll just make you crazy."_

Adam stumbled out into the night air. There was a sweet fragrance in the breeze and he stood for a moment with his eyes closed, swaying on his feet. He attempted to climb into the wagon and his foot slipped off the wagon wheel and he almost fell into the dirt. On the second try, he made it up and swung his other leg over the side, collapsing beside Sigrid's big trunk. He hadn't taken in his carpet bag so he found it and using it for a pillow, was soon snoring, only to be awakened before sunrise by a kookaburra singing in the tree over his head.

~ 0 ~

The first thing Adam did that morning was lean over the side of the wagon bed and heave the bitter dregs in his stomach; his throat felt scorched. His eyes throbbed and his head felt squeezed by a cruel vise. The light of the morning sun tormented him and he lay back down in the wagon bed wishing he could die to escape the excruciating agony the ravaged him.

He could hear the sounds of day being started about him, the chickens scuffling in the dirt of their coop looking for bugs and forgotten feed. Someone in the barn was tending the animals and he could hear a cow lowing, waiting to be milked. Then footsteps and he knew that it was Lije who worked the creaking pump handle, sticking his head underneath and making sounds of relief as the water washed over him.

"Adam," Caleb said standing beside the wagon, "Coffee's hot and we need to unload your trunks and all. The driver said he's ready to leave after some breakfast."

Adam groaned and sat up, steadying himself with one hand. "Damn you to hell for feeding me that poisonous witch's brew last night."

Caleb laughed. "Can't take it, huh? Well, you never were much for drunkenness. A man needs a hobby out here though, and drinking is the most popular one. Now, get up and come in for some hot coffee. Trust me, you'll feel better with some food in your stomach."

"I'll feel better with a bullet through my brain."

"Well, fortify yourself. We need to load these trunks on one of my wagons and head out to Flynn's old place. It's yours now. Going to have my second cup of coffee first." Caleb smacked a palm against the side of the wagon and went back to the house.

Adam tentatively stood up, finding his feet again, and climbed out of the wagon, the small jump to the ground jarring him; it felt as if his spine had been jammed through the top of his skull. He stood, holding onto the edge of the tailgate until his nausea passed.

Jimmy sat on the porch with a small bowl of milk and two thick slices of bread smeared generously with butter. Lije drank a cup of hot coffee, dipping his bread in the liquid and nodded to Adam as he passed.

"Mornin'," Maddy said, grinning. "Your stomach set for some eggs and leftover pork shoulder?"

Adam just waved off her suggestion. He dropped into a chair beside Sigrid who said nothing to him. "Just coffee, please."

Caleb rose from the table where he been sitting. "I'll go milk Rebecca this morning, Maddy. Adam, do you owe that man any money?"

"Uh…" Adam rubbed his face. "No, I paid him already but…wait." Adam stood up and fished two silver coins out of his pocket. "If you would, give Lije one for unloading the trunks and supplies and here - this one's for Jimmy, the boy. Give in to him in private." Adam dropped back down in the chair and rested his head in his hands.

Maddy placed a mug and a pot of coffee on the table. "Here, Adam. There's sugar, cream. I'm going to feed the chickens and collect the eggs." She glanced back before she went out the back door. There was going to be trouble between those two this morning, Maddy thought. And she didn't want to be around to see it. She argued enough with Caleb that she didn't need to witness another marital argument.

"Morning, Sigrid," Adam said, shakily pouring himself coffee. "Do you want more?" He held the pot, waiting. Caleb was right; she was a beauty – slender and graceful with those iris-blue eyes and long, sooty lashes and her dark hair that tumbled about her shoulders. Had they been alone, he would have slipped his arm about her waist and cajoled her to return to bed.

"No." She broke off a piece of bread from her slice and put some jam on it. It was green and Adam wondered what it was. Green jam. Reminded him of gooseberry jam back home.

"Did you sleep all right?" Adam sipped the coffee. He watched Sigrid carefully. Her usually tender mouth was set firmly in the manner that meant she was angry, upset with him. He groaned inwardly. Not again. Not again.

"I slept very well. Thank you."

"Okay, if that's not it then, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me nothing when it's obvious, something is." He set down his cup. His head was pounding and his stomach was on the verge of rebelling against the coffee. He reached for a slice of bread in the hopes it might help.

She looked at him. "You really don't know, do you?"

He chuckled derisively, tore off a bit of bread, looked at Sigrid and said, "How the hell am I supposed to know what's wrong if you don't goddamn tell me! I'm not a mind-reader." He knew he shouldn't speak like that with her; she didn't care for cursing, but at that moment, he didn't care as he made a grave effort not to vomit on Maddy's clean kitchen floor. "And don't you dare cry, Sigrid! Don't use that against me!"

Sigrid sat up as straight as she could. She wouldn't cry; she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. "Last night, when we pulled up, before you even introduced me by name, you said you brought 'a' wife as if you had picked me out from a group as you did the horses."

"Wait a minute – because I said 'a' wife? That's what's crawled up your… I don't believe this. Because I said 'a' wife. What did you want me to say?"

"You should have said 'my' wife. You should have introduced me as 'your' wife, not 'a wife." The tears shimmered in her eyes but Sigrid was determined not to shed them. "You made me sound like the lowest-hanging fruit. And the worst part is that I was – I know that, Adam. I know you cared more for Mary Dawson but that you married me because it would be easier and you thought I would jump at the chance to get away from my 'cloistered' life. And, in that regard, you were right. I did jump. But do you have to let everyone else know how it was? Couldn't you have just pretended you had some affection for me?" Sigrid waited. Would Adam say he loved her? That was what she was hoping for; he had already won her heart.

He stared at her, incredulous. Then Adam took a deep breath and sat back. "Sigrid, I…" He ran his hands through his hair. "I apologize for hurting your feelings even though there was no intent. If we're going to stay married, and right now, that's an 'if', you have to say what's bothering you – don't just punish me with silence. I can't live my life guessing why you're put out or angry or whatever the hell it is that …" He pursed his lips. "I'm going out to help Lije and Jimmy unload the wagon. Better I leave before I say something I'll probably regret." Adam stood up and waited for a moment. Was Sigrid going to say nothing? And when she turned her face away from him, Adam walked out.

Sigrid dropped her head on her arms and cried, wondering if she had made an awful mistake and if it could be rectified. She hadn't expected Adam to love her but their marriage – was it truly a sham? It was so difficult living with a man and serving his needs. Or maybe just this man – this big, hard-headed, mercurial, man with the wonderful hands and the hungry mouth that sought hers at the most unexpected times. And she suddenly regretted not just swallowing her insulted feelings of last night and moving on. He had said "If" they were to stay married – "if". And she cried anew at the thought he might pack her off with no further thought.

~ 0 ~

Adam glanced over at Sigrid as they sat in the buckboard. She said nothing, just stared at the house before them.

Caleb dismounted. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have done some work on it – it's been deserted for almost two years and some things are in disrepair."

Adam tied off the reins and set the brake. He leaped down. His headache was better but his stomach still felt uneasy. He surveyed the house. "Tin roof."

"The roof's sturdy. Now the windows, they need repair – the caulk's peeled off in some spots. Once the rains start, the mosquitoes'll be out in force; you have to keep a fire going at all times or they'll come right down the chimney. The walls, well the house is wattle and daub as you can see. Tomorrow, I'll come over with one or two Abos who work in the mine and we'll help you patch them. You and I can go into Townsville today and pick up what we need."

Adam nodded, walking around the house and feeling the walls. They were sturdy and well-made but every so often, there was a crack or a clump of the daub missing. He saw a pump at the end of a trough filled with leaves and detritus, and gave it a few tries. "Must need priming," he said.

Sigrid climbed down from the wagon to the dirt yard, and slowly walked about the house. The remains of an overgrown garden was near what must be the kitchen door– Sigrid recognized carrot ferns and a curling vine that was either squash or cucumbers. A ramshackle barn stood off to the right. Adam had left their two horses at Caleb's until he knew about their keep. A few chickens were surprisingly still there, scratching about in the yard, a few perched on low-hanging branches.

Sigrid walked about to the front door and the knob turned easily. She pushed the door open and stood, staring. It was as if the previous owners had just walked away in the middle of the day and left everything as was. A chair at the table was pushed out while the other three were neatly pushed in. There were flowered curtains on the dusty, fly-specked windows and a braided rug on the floor. A pair of men's boots with mud-crusted soles stood by the door.

The kitchen still had a teakettle on the small cookstove and a rusted cast iron skillet with what must have been the remains of a meal; now it looked nauseating. The sink held dirty dishes and glasses, one cupboard open with stacked dishes in the Blue Willow pattern, the matching teapot on the counter. In her large trunk, Sigrid had her mother's china along with the fine sheets and linens as well as shiny pots and pans and other items that made up the hope chest. Since she had been a young girl, she and Mrs. Hellström would sit evenings and embroider and sew and talk about how one day she would marry a handsome man who would appreciate that his wife brought such fine things to their marriage. But Sigrid couldn't see putting her fine dishes in these cupboards.

She walked out the back door and saw the remainder of the garden. It seemed to stretch quite a way and she decided that once the house was in order, she would start on the garden. Maddy had said that as soon as Ekala, her Aboriginal maid arrived, they would come over to help her with the house. If it had been otherwise, if Sigrid had been alone, the house would be too much to clean, Maddy had said. But Sigrid was silenced by the enormity of all that needed doing, but instead of dropping to the ground in helpless, hopeless despair over the state of the house, she pulled herself erect and swallowed the lump in her throat.

Sigrid walked back in the house as Adam walked in through the open front door. He saw by her face what she thought – probably the same as he did.

"I…well, it's no Ponderosa, is it?" He grinned but his eyes betrayed how he felt.

"No, no, it's not". Sigrid pulled out one of the wooden chairs and after wiping it off with her hanky, she sat down. Everything had a fine coating of dust. She pulled of her bonnet and looked up. "This has a loft too. I suppose it has a bed. I haven't even…"

"I'll check." Adam climbed up the ladder and looked at the loft. It held a bed and on the bureau were things belonging to a woman – a tarnished silver hand mirror, a brush and comb, a powder box and what looked like a tipped-over perfume bottle. A mirror hung on the wood slabs that partitioned off the loft. But what gave him pause was an empty cradle. He climbed back down.

"The bed's up there like at the Morgan's." She nodded and Adam continued. "I was thinking, Sigrid, that maybe for a few days, you could stay at the Morgan's while I do more work around here. We're going to Townsville to buy supplies and things for repairing this place and it probably won't be ready enough for you for another two days." For some reason Adam couldn't quite understand, he wanted to protect Sigrid from the empty cradle and the items that spoke of the woman who had lived there before.

"No, no." Sigrid stood up. "I need to…" Caleb stood in the doorway with the smaller of her two trunks on his back.

"Where you want it?" He grinned.

"Oh," Sigrid said, "Thank you – right here." Caleb gently dropped the trunk and then told Adam to get outside to help with the larger one; after all, they had a partnership!

Once both the men were out of the house, Sigrid looked about again. She felt the presence of the woman who had lived there before. Every item bespoke her taste and likes and dislikes. A few books were stacked on the mantle of a well-built stone fireplace along with candlesticks and a mantle clock. And a framed, faded tintype of a woman with light hair and a serious expression sitting in a chair and a slender man standing behind her, one hand on her shoulder, his chest filled with pride. It was obvious by their clothing that it was their wedding day. Sigrid picked it up and wiped her sleeve across the glass and stared at them, running her fingers gently over their images; they looked like ghosts. What had happened to the people who lived here? Sigrid wondered. And would someone come into this house a year from now and wonder what happened to her?


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you to everyone who reads and leaves me a comment; it helps to receive encouragement. I also need to restate that I remove all guest reviews but I thank everyone who shows an interest.**

**Seventeen**

Maddy showed up at Sigrid's door with her Aboriginal maid, Ekala. The Aborigine was a large woman of indeterminate age although her black hair was struck through with gray. She was carrying a broom, and a bucket that held two large bars of soap and clean rags. Maddy carried a sack which she said held some candles, dust cloths and lunch; she smiled and said she knew that Sigrid wouldn't have much of anything to eat except what was left from their overland trip.

Ekala wore a shapeless shift but no shoes; her breasts were ponderous and swung as she walked. Her feet were wide and splayed and Sigrid wondered how calloused the soles were from walking about all her many years with no shoes. Although her face was a mass of wrinkles, her smile was wide and friendly. The two women had walked over as the houses were only a mile and a half from each other.

Sigrid was in the kitchen washing the countertops; before Adam left for Townsville. He worked on the pumps both inside the house and outside and finally had them working properly. He worked the inside pump, vigorously pumping the handle, while Caleb worked the outside one until the water ran and became clear. Adam had cupped his hand and tasted the water. He was pleased; it tasted pure without any salts or acrid smell. So now Sigrid had water, he said.

"I asked Ekala if she knew of a woman who would help you about the place and she said her daughter, Nama, would work for you if she could bring her baby." Maddy waited.

"Oh, a baby. Yes, that would be fine." Sigrid smiled – a baby. "Thank you, Ekala." Ekala nodded her head a few times, and said Nama would be there tomorrow, and then wielding her broom, started sweeping, She worked slowly but continued without stopping until past noon, even taking up the braided rug and hanging it over a branch, as well as removing the settee and chair cushions, carrying them outside and beating everything with a large, flat stick to knock out the excess dust and dirt. Then, after a meal of the food that Maddy had packed, Ekala scrubbed the floors and the walls while Sigrid and Maddy continued setting up the kitchen, boiling water many times over in a large Dutch oven to wash the dishes that had stood in the cupboard all that time, as well as the pots and pans. They used more boiling water and soap in order to wipe down all the shelves, removing any grime before they restacked the clean dishes.

"Before you came, I cleaned mouse droppings off the counters," Sigrid told Maddy as they worked. "I imagine they ate the food that was left out." Sigrid noticed how Maddy deftly changed the subject, saying she had some seeds from last year that Sigrid could have. She was going to plant a kitchen garden, wasn't she?

"I plan to start a garden but things often don't go…" Sigrid felt a catch in her throat. Nothing had gone as she had planned. "I saw that some of the plants are back and seem to be flourishing – look like carrots and maybe cucumbers. But I'm not sure what grows out here."

"I'll tell you and what doesn't grow from seeds, I'll dig up a few plants and give them to you." Maddy's hands were red from the hot water but they were almost finished. "Are you getting hungry? I am."

"It is getting late, isn't it, and I haven't even climbed up to look at the sleeping area and clean that for tonight. Do all these little homes have lofts?"

"Oh, it was Caleb's idea to do that. He has a degree in architecture." Maddy seemed proud of her college-educated husband. "That way, there's no need of a second floor – the walls couldn't support one, although if one has children…" Maddy stopped. "There's no door so there's no privacy but with just the two of us, well, who do we need privacy from? Caleb promised that eventually he'd build me a real house with brick walls and a grassy yard and all those things that civilized homes have – although it hasn't happened yet. But out here, well, Caleb says these houses are a building method that's all over the world because people build their houses out of the materials at hand."

"Adam has yet to promise me the same, that is if I stay to even have a real house one day."

Maddy stopped. "What do you mean, 'if you stay'?"

Sigrid wanted to tell Maddy all about her marriage, how Adam had come looking for a wife and she had accepted – for part of his shares in the copper mine. It wasn't for love, not that she didn't find him strangely attractive. Adam was both terrible and wonderful and charming and sarcastic – she never knew what to make of him. And just that morning at breakfast, Adam had suggested their marriage may not last. It had frightened her and so she had been cold to him. But then, he held her chin and kissed her goodbye before he climbed up in the wagon with Caleb. He had also softly told her that he would be back and not to worry – and that he was sorry for the way he had spoken earlier. He had caressed her cheek and smiling, told her that for a girl, she was kinda pretty. And he had given her a slight smack on her backside before he climbed up into the wagon and drove away. Sigrid wanted to know Maddy's thoughts on the matter, on their marriage, as Sigrid had nothing for comparison. Was Adam's behavior like every other husband's? Did his behavior suggest he was already tired of her? What should she do? But, in the back of her mind she knew that Adam would be angry if he knew she had confided their intimacies; then she would have to justify it and she would have no defense except that she desired a sympathetic ear.

"It's just that everything is so strange and odd out here. Oh!" Sigrid moved and stepped on a spider that was approaching across the floor. "I hate spiders!"

"They're the least of our problems out here," Maddy said. "They're small enough to be stomped on. Every creature out here is a blasted beastie whose only intention is to kill you. Whenever you're outside, look where you step and if you see anything moving in the grass either run from it or kill it."

They worked side by side for another hours or so, Maddy talking about canning fruits and vegetables as well as different ways to cook pork and chicken and most of all, how to store it so it doesn't go bad or attract anything unwanted. Both houses theirs and Sigrid's, had small buildings – Maddy pointed through the kitchen window .

"Now over there – see – that's the outhouse. Over there is where the cured meat and such is hung or smoked – it's under those trees to stay cool. Wait until you taste smoked kangaroo meat. Delicious. But its walls from here look like they need more caulk. And over there – see? That's the washhouse with another pump, a cistern and should be a tub. Ask Nama to scrub it tomorrow because it serves double duty as a wash tub for clothes. Those fallen lines – those were the clotheslines. I think we can fix those ourselves."

Sigrid looked out and jumped at a voice behind her. It was Ekala.

"Missy, time go home. Kulan waiting." Ekala stood with no expression.

"Oh, I guess it is late. Thank you, Ekala. Leave the broom and bucket for tomorrow. And bring Nama tomorrow."

Ekala smiled and nodded and then left.

"Who's Kulan?" Sigrid asked.

"Here." Maddy motioned for Sigrid to follow her to the large window in the parlor and Sigrid saw a man walking away with Ekala. "That's her eldest son, Kulan. Her husband is dead, I think, at least she never mentions having one. Anyway, if Kulan comes about, it means work is over. No arguing."

"It is late," Sigrid said. "It's getting cooler and it'll be dark soon. You better go home – I'll walk with you halfway, as long as it's in a straight line. I probably need to drop breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel did. Then, once I'm back, I need to get to the loft so we can have some place to sleep tonight. Adam said there was a mattress up there and I want to…."

Maddy interrupted. "Oh, you're supposed to come home with me, stay with us tonight. And you're right – it's late and we need to go back and start some dinner. I'll show you how I make a dinner out of what's left of…"

"But I want to be here when Adam gets home," Sigrid said, starting to move back toward the kitchen area. She suddenly felt a sense of panic. She wanted Adam there – now. Sigrid remembered her fevered prayers as a child, when her father would have to travel to a distant homestead to repair an item that couldn't be brought all that way to Virginia City; he was the only smithy within miles. She would worry as the evening came on, sitting at the window to wait for him. Mrs. Hellström had taught her much earlier about Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travelers and woodsmen and that the good, gentle saint loved children, how he had helped the Christ Child safely over the rough water by carrying him on his back and even though the Child became heavier and heavier, the good saint persevered; he didn't realize that for a few moments, he too carried the weight of the sins of the world on his shoulders as the Christ did his whole life. "We must say a prayer to him," Mrs. Hellström said, "for your father's safe return." From then on, Sigrid, waiting for her father, would pray to Saint Christopher for his safe travel and quick return. And at that moment, she wanted to drop to her knees and pray for Adam to come home safely to her. "At least the kitchen is clean and in some order. I need to wipe up that spider though."

"No, Sigrid," Maddy said. "Adam and Caleb stopped by the house to pick up your horses before they left and Adam said he wants you to stay with us tonight. He's buying a buckboard for your place and a new mattress among other things. He said that he wants to burn the old mattress that was in the loft." She saw Sigrid's face, the raised arched brow, and knew she needed to give a reason. "He said something about a mouse nest and droppings so he wants to put the new one in there. But of course, as tall as he is, he won't be able to stand up completely – that's the biggest drawback to having the loft – the height. Anyway, I think Adam wants to make it nice for you, you know, since it's your first house. Did he carry you over the threshold?"

"No, he didn't. What is it, Maddy? Why doesn't Adam – or even you - want me to see what's in the loft? Don't tell me there's a dead body up there." Sigrid was only half joking.

"No, of course not. Now I'm run off my feet and we need to leave before it gets really dark and I lose the way or some horrible four-legged beast tracks us. Now we'll leave the cleaning supplies here and tomorrow…."

Sigrid looked up at the loft, not listening to Madrigal. She should have climbed up earlier to see what it looked like up there but the fear of unknown creatures of the dark and becoming lost on the way back to Maddy and Caleb's was stronger than her curiosity. So, she grabbed her bonnet, looked about and followed Madrigal out. She closed the door behind her and they took what Sigrid realized, must have been a well-worn path between the two homesteads at one time, walking rapidly the mile and a half walk.

~ 0 ~

After washing up and a dinner of beans mixed with shreds of the last of the pork shoulder, Sigrid and Madrigal climbed the ladder to sleep. There was a small clock on the bureau that ticked away the seconds and Sigrid listened. Madrigal had fallen asleep quickly even though Caleb wasn't yet home. And where was Adam? Was he coming here first or going straight to their place? Sigrid looked at the clock – ten minutes to 9:00. It had been dark for an hour but at least the moon was up. Sigrid moved to the foot of the mattress where the window was and sat looking out.

She whispered into the darkness, "Dear Saint Cristopher – I know you carried the Christ child on your back across the troubled waters to safety, carrying the burdens of the world on your weary back, and I beg you now to pray for my husband, Adam. Pray that he arrives home safely and faces no trials or tribulations on his journey. I promise you, Saint Christopher, that I shall not be peevish or short with him but will strive to be a good wife if you will intercede for him – for me – for us. Please Saint Christopher! In the name of the Son, Jesus Christ – Amen." And she sat and waited.

After another 20 minutes, Sigrid thought she heard the sound of a wagon – two wagons – approaching. She held her breath. Yes, wagons! She whispered her thanks to Saint Christopher and looked over at Madrigal who still slept deeply. Sigrid gingerly crawled over her and stepped out on the floor. She slid her feet in her shoes, not bothering to buckle the straps, and took to the ladder. The air was much cooler and she felt chilled in her chemise. She knew she should cover up, if for nothing else, modesty in front of Caleb Morgan, but…she looked about. On the hat stand hung a light jacket so Sigrid pulled it off and slipped it on; it would serve.

She stepped out on the porch and Adam and Caleb were talking and unhitching Caleb's two horses and releasing them into the corral. She said nothing, just stood on the porch with her arms wrapped about her waist. She felt weak with relief. There was Adam, laughing good-naturedly with his friend, able and strong-bodied. Another buckboard, apparently theirs, standing beside the Morgan's.

Adam sensing something, turned toward the house. "Sigrid! What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, good evening, Sigrid," Caleb said. "Is Madrigal awake?"

"No, she's still asleep. I heard the wagons and came out."

Caleb turned to lift a sack out of the wagon but caught an odd expression between Adam and his wife and stopped. "I think I'll go inside and…" He said nothing more, just passed Sigrid on the porch, tipping his hat, a bowler that had seen better days.

"Did you buy everything you need?" Sigrid asked, walking to Adam.

"Just about. Let me show you." He took down the tailgate of their wagon. "B**y **the way, this is our brand-new buckboard and tracings. I was surprised how much they cost."

"Maybe they saw you coming?" Sigrid asked, smiling, "A big, dumb cowboy from the States."

Adam chuckled. "Could be. But according to Caleb, everything is expensive here so I don't feel cheated – but that doesn't mean I wasn't." Adam put one foot on the left rear wheel and stepped with the other into the wagon, then took Sigrid's hands, helping her up.

"Here's our new mattress – down and feather filled. And I bought new blankets – it gets cold nights. Bought some bed linens and two pillows."

"I brought linens in my trunk."

"Well, now we have more. I bought sacks of oats and these bales of hay – not that they'll last very long. Oh, and we'll have to name the horses – thought of that when I wanted to curse them to go faster. We also need a cow. Caleb said there's a small farmer due north who may sell me one. We may even be lucky enough to get a cow and calf since they've already calved. Here's a roll of screening to replace any damaged. Now, here is the chicken wire. I thought I'd rebuild the coop. It's going to take awhile before we can keep pigs, not that I much like them, but we don't have cattle. – I couldn't butcher one if we had – I don't have the right tools for it. Caleb said they mainly raise sheep about here because the grass is short. They use the wool for linings of boots and coats as well as thread."

"My father liked mutton. Mutton stew. Mrs. Hellström made it often and father would compliment her up and down and she would blush like a bride." Sigrid paused and then continued. "You know what, Adam?"

"What?"

"Lately, I've been wondering if there wasn't something between my father and Mrs. Hellström. I remember walking into rooms and they were there, the two of them, and I felt something odd. One time I thought he was embracing her in the kitchen – I was young – and he said that a spark had popped onto her shoulder from the kitchen fire and he was brushing it off but they both blushed and acted guilty. What do you think?"

Adam chuckled and sat down on a bale of hay, pulling off his hat. He reached for Sigrid and she sat down beside him. Adam slipped an arm about her waist. "I think that if your father found a companion, it's good. People aren't meant to be alone." He bent his head and kissed her cheek.

"Yes, I was thinking that too." Sigrid reached for Adam's other hand and held it.

Adam studied his wife. He remembered the first time he saw her and really looked at her. He hadn't thought she was particularly pretty then, but as they had become closer, she had become far more beautiful. And other men thought she was beautiful as well. Since she had lost weight on the sea voyage, her cheekbones had gained prominence and the hollow of her throat seemed deeper – and he could easily fell her ribs when he held her waist. Yet, despite no longer being round and full of face, she was still beautiful – yes, he decided, she was beautiful with her black hair and blue eyes. Beautiful and desirable.

"Oh," Sigrid said, looking at him, "Madrigal's maid Ekala has a daughter named Nama who'll help me about the place. She's going to have to bring her baby along but if she works even half as hard as Ekala does, she'll be a prize." Sigrid looked sideways at Adam. "I'm not going to have to worry about you and Nama, am I?"

Adam laughed. "No, I don't think so – unless of course she's prettier than you. How much are we paying her?"

"Oh…I don't know. I didn't even ask. It just all happened so quickly that I didn't even consider the cost. I'll ask Maddy."

"It doesn't matter," Adam said, pulled Sigrid closer. "You're a wealthy woman now, owning part of a copper mine. By the way, in another week or so, you'll be wealthier. Caleb and I need to go to Dalby. It's a day's ride there, the day spent in Dalby and then another day returning, because we need to put my name on the claim and Caleb and I need to file another one. I want to put your name on the new one as well – a quarter partner."

"Oh? Another copper mine?

"A silver mine. I inspected the site before we left for Townsville – made us late in leaving but I had a good look at it. Seems to be rich ore but I couldn't yet tell how much is there, how deep it goes. I should have told you about it earlier but…well, anyway, there's also a bank in Dalby and I want to set up transferring money from the Virginia City bank to here."

"Are we out of money?" Sigrid looked up at her husband, studying his face. He had a slight smile on his lips but it didn't seem one of humor.

"No, no, but I want to have the money here in case we need it for anything."

"I have the $300.00 from my father. You're welcome to it."

"That's your escape money, remember?" He watched her face carefully.

"Why might I want to escape?" Sigrid waited, barely breathing.

"Oh, Sigrid. What a mess I've gotten us into." He removed his arm and stood up, his back to her. "I don't mind hard work, never have, but this is…it's a little overwhelming. I keep thinking of my father and how he started but he was younger and… If you wanted to run – I couldn't blame you."

"It's not such a mess, Adam. Really. Together and with a little help, we can manage. And you didn't get us into anything." Sigrid stood up and put her arms about Adam's waist, resting her head on his back. "I came willingly."

"I wasn't sure until I saw the house and how Caleb's old partner and his wife, well you saw how everything is there, just about everything they owned left behind. Clothes, personal items…"

"I know about the woman who lived in the house, Adam - Felicity. Maddy tried to avoid the subject all day but finally told me on the way back here."

Adam gently pulled her arms from about him and turned to look at Sigrid. "Exactly what do you know?" Riding to Townsville, Caleb had told Adam all about the Flynns and why they had so abruptly left; he had been thinking of a way to soften the story in case he had to tell Sigrid. But she already knew.

"That her baby died days after it was born. Maddy said that Felicity – such an ironic name, isn't it - Felicity? She almost died in labor. For three days she was in agony and her Abo maid and Ekala tried their own medicines along with whatever Maddy could think of but nothing made it easier or faster. The child was finally born – a boy, weak and sickly - and two days later the child died and it was buried in the trees a distance beyond the house. One night, her husband woke and she wasn't in bed. He took a lantern and went looking for her. He found her sitting in the dirt, hugging her dead child. She'd dug it up with her bare hands and was rocking the dead child in her arms. singing to him. All of it had broken her mind and the next day, Mark Flynn took his crazy wife away and neither Maddy nor Caleb know what became of them."

"I tried to keep you from the loft, Sigrid. I didn't want you to see the cradle up there. I don't know why, exactly, but an empty cradle is…tragic. Especially after what did happen. Caleb told me this morning"

There was a silence between them and Adam looked up at the sky as did Sigrid. She reached for his hand, so large and comforting, and he clasped hers.

"You know, Adam, the first time we looked at the stars together, you said they would be different here and they are. It seems so long ago." She glanced up at Adam and her heart beat faster. He was so good to her, bought her a new mattress, wanted to spare her feelings and protect her. "Where are you going to sleep, Adam?"

"I planned to drive the buckboard back to the house, tend to the horses, and then sleep here in the bed on our new mattress. The mozzies aren't too bad yet." He grinned.

"The what?" Sigrid laughed.

"The mozzies – mosquitoes. If we're going to live here, we may as well use the lingo."

"Adam, I want to go with you."

"Sigrid, you need to go back in the house and sleep in there. I'll be fine."

"Then let's sleep out here in the buckboard. We have blankets and pillows – you just bought them."

"I don't think…" But Adam felt the familiar desire for her soft body next to him. He wanted to hold Sigrid in his arms. He ached for her. "All right then. Let me toss out some of these things and put the horses in the corral with a bale of hay." He jumped down and set about unhitching the horses. Sigrid, tucked her knees under her chemise, pulling the jacket about her.

"Adam?" Caleb walked out into the yard. "You staying?"

"Hope it's all right. Sigrid and I are going to try out our new mattress."

Caleb grinned. "Fine by me, mate. Sleep well!" He turned and went back into the house while Sigrid waited for her husband. She didn't know why she felt – wanton. She was a married woman.

Sigrid patiently waited while Adam finished with the horses, walked out into the trees to take care of matters, and then washed up at the pump. Finally, he climbed back in the wagon and he flipped the mattress out. He pulled the blankets out of the crate and together, he and Sigrid made a bed of sorts. She lay down and Adam started to, removing his jacket but reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, stiped, paper bag.

"Forgot. Bought you something." He twisted the neck of the bag and tossed it to Sigrid.

Sigrid opened it and laughed. "Candy! Oh, Adam."

He slipped under the blankets next to her, leaning on one elbow while she sat up and opened the bag. "There are some gum drops, molasses chews, a few peppermint and butterscotch. Didn't know if you like licorice or not."

"I don't. Thank you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"You're welcome. Next time, it'll be a bag of diamonds and rubies and emeralds." He grinned.

"Oh, of course." She placed the bag beside the mattress and slid down between the blankets. Sigrid curled up next to Adam and he pulled her closer, kissing her dark hair.

"Good night, Sigrid."

"Good night, Adam."

"And, Sigrid…thank you for what you said earlier."

Sigrid thought. "About the money?"

Adam laughed. It was too late to tell her how much it meant to him that she didn't blame him for their situation. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." And he kissed her hair again and sighed with contentment.

Sigrid held onto her husband. She had kept from him what Maddy had also told her and what she had offered. But now she was too tired to think about it and soon they were both asleep in each other's arms.


	18. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

"Well, I asked Maddy how much she paid Ekala and she said that she gives her about 4 pence a month but that the Abos don't really have much use for money unless they live in town. So, she also lets Ekala take whatever she wants from the garden or Maddy buys her what she wants from the peddler. Oh, I need to tell you - Maddy said a peddler comes around about once a month and carries the type of things we might need for sewing or cooking or such. She said he's due in another week or so. Maddy said she'd tell him about us in case he doesn't know to stop by. But I think I'd like to go into Townsville sometime and pick up a few things I need. I need to make a list lest I forget something.

"Oh, also, Ekala found where the mice were getting in and she plugged the crack with a mixture made of water, what looked like a type of clay, I think some horse droppings, and leaves – anyway it hardened but I'm not counting on it. So, if you'd caulk the spot or board it up or do something, I'd appreciate it. I don't want mice scampering about in my kitchen all night. Of course, there's no leaving any food out anyway – ants and such. I'll have to get a breadbox. I think I can buy one from the peddler – he carries things like that, but if I wait until then, well, I won't be able to bake bread until I get one unless we eat it all in one day."

Initially, Adam had been amused as Sigrid related the previous day's events on the short drive to their house, all that she and Maddy and Ekala had done. But he sensed something was wrong; she seemed too talkative, almost fevered.

That morning, he had woken first and smiled to himself, feeling Sigrid still next to him, one arm across his chest. He looked up at the sky just at the verge of day. A kookaburra sang some distance away and he heard other sounds of other birds – the trees seemed full, as full as his heart.

Caleb finally came out of the house and tentatively asked, "Adam? Sigrid? Maddy's got breakfast going."

Adam sat up. "Be there in a moment. Lot's of coffee, right?'

"Right you are!" Caleb smiled. He was relieved he hadn't interrupted them; Madrigal had tried to prevent him from disturbing them. She had said they may be making love and he had responded that if the wagon was rocking, he'd leave them be.

Sigrid lazily stretched, Adam's movements and voice having woken her. He bent down and kissed her lightly. "Wake up, sweetheart." She smiled up at him, her eyes still closed.

"I had such nice dreams last night," she said, reaching up to him and touching his cheeks. "You're as prickly as a porcupine." And with that he laughed and rubbed his face against her neck, telling her to get up.

It was after breakfast, Adam decided, now that he thought about it, that Sigrid became so ebullient. But it seemed a forced gaiety. And Sigrid had hugged Maddy as if they weren't to see each other for months instead of later that morning when she and Ekala arrived to help complete setting the house straight. So, Adam watched Sigrid carefully as she talked of washing the old curtains and cleaning the windows – the rains would be coming soon and Maddy said to be prepared.

"Sigrid, is something wrong?" Adam lowered his head to see her face within her bonnet.

"No. Why do you ask that?"

"It's just that you seem unusually talkative… but I suppose you're just excited about the house. Is that it?" Adam closely watched her. Was she going to lie to him? He knew the house was not something any woman would be excited about if she had any sense. Had he brought Mary Dawson and her brood of three along, upon seeing the wattle and daub house, Mary would have dissolved into tears, gathered her three children, and demanded passage for all of them back to Nevada.

"Well, of course. Our own house, Adam." Sigrid's smile quivered and she quickly looked at the passing landscape of trees and rough brush and boulders. She couldn't tell Adam the real reason she was so anxious was because in her skirt pocket were a few of the small seeds – a dozen or so – wrapped inside her handkerchief.

_The two women had finished their evening meal and Sigrid, haunted by Felicity Flynn, asked more questions and Maddy did her best to remain unemotional while talking about the woman who had suffered so horribly._

_"__When I went to see Felicity the next morning to see how she was taking things – the small service we had was so sad - she was sitting in a chair, moaning; Mark had tied her to it, bound her to its arms at her wrists and about her waist. I remember wondering why her hands and face, her feet – all of her nightgown – was smeared with dirt. Anyway, I started to untie her even though she didn't ask me to, didn't even seem to see me, and that's when Mark came in and grabbed me away – told me to stop. He'd just come from reburying the dead babe." _

_Sigrid kept her hands about the hot mug of tea, staring at the slices of seed cake on the plate in front of them. Dread filled her. Felicity had gone mad. Her own mother had gone mad. Sigrid gripped the mug tighter. If she lost a child, would she go mad as well? The thought had always haunted her._

_One of the older boys at school, Denny Fenster, had teased her about her mother, "The Mad Madam of Sweden", telling Sigrid that one day she was going to go as crazy as her mother had. Sigrid had asked Mrs. Hellström about it; had her mother gone crazy like the boy said? Mrs. Hellström only said not to listen to those other children at school, just to do well and study hard. It was only later that Sigrid realized that the housekeeper must have spoken to Sigrid's father who would not sit idly by while his daughter was tormented because from then on, Denny Fenster kept his distance and when another boy tried to tease her after she wouldn't give him a kiss when he caught her, Denny said, "You better leave Sigrid alone or her father will nail horseshoes on the bottom of your foot. He's mean enough to do it too."_

_But still, Sigrid knew it was true that her mother had lost her mind and one early evening, she ran to the church and asked the Reverend. He told her that indeed, her mother had been such a delicate, gentle child of God that her mind couldn't accept the horrible violence visited on her and her soul was shattered. God forgives innocent victims, he said, and Sigrid must always think of her mother resting in God's grace. _

_Sigrid asked Maddy, "What finally happened to her – to Felicity? Did she recover her senses?"_

_Maddy sadly shrugged. "We never found out. Later that day, Caleb came by the house for lunch and I told him what happened. He rushed over there just in time to help Mark manage to get Felicity and the few things Mark had managed to pack, in the wagon. He had made a bed of sorts for her because by then, she was basically a corpse, Caleb said. She didn't seem to see anyone or move – just lay still like a dead person. But he said Mark Flynn was so terrified of what she might do, might jump out of the wagon or harm herself or even him that they tied her down for her own good. They drove away in their wagon and that was the last we knew of them. I keep expecting a letter – something – but nothing ever comes."_

_The women sipped their tea in silence for a bit. "Have another slice," Maddy said, pushing the plate toward Sigrid. "I don't often have the chance to bake but Caleb likes seed cake and it's easy to make. I'll give you the recipe if you want it." _

_"__Aren't you afraid it'll happen to you?" Sigrid asked._

_Sigrid was puzzled and then she knew. "You mean what happened to Felicity," Sigrid nodded. "It won't – at least it hasn't happened so far." Maddy rose and walked into the kitchen. She came back with a small earthenware jar. Siting back down, she pulled off the lid and shook out some small seeds or such – Sigrid couldn't tell exactly what they were. They rested in the palm of Maddy's hand. _

_"__What are those?" Sigrid looked – she didn't know if she should touch._

_"__I don't really know. One day early on, Caleb was gone for a few days, I had what I thought was a miscarriage – or a very heavy menses. It was very painful. Anyway, I wasn't sure how to feel about it – sad or relieved. I wanted a child as most women do but I didn't want a child out here with no doctors, no one to really help me or the baby if things went badly. I cried and spilled my heart to Ekala. She had helped me when I collapsed in the garden from the cramping. Once I was lying down, she patted me on the cheek, telling me all would be well. The next day, she came back with some of these. She said her women use them when children come one upon the heels of another. Seems their souls become mingled or halved if they're born too close to one another and they're never whole children - something like that – I didn't really understand. But if you chew one of these after laying with Adam, you won't end up with child."_

_Sigrid took one out of Maddy's hand and looked closely. It was small and bumpy. "Does Caleb know about these?" Sigrid dropped the seed into Maddy's hand and she slid them back into the jar, replacing the lid._

_"__No. He thinks its just a jar of herbs or such. And I haven't told him."_

_"__Don't you feel as if you're cheating him – or God?"Sigrid has been raised to believe that pregnancies were God's province and women should let things be the will of heaven. Besides, children were the source of a woman's true joy and happiness. The child that grew under a woman's heart was the reason for her existence. _

_"__When Caleb builds me a house closer to Barakula or Dalby, a house with rooms, actual bedrooms, solid walls and indoor plumbing, then I'll give him all the children he could ever want. But not now, not after I saw what happened to Felicity. That would have driven anyone mad. And as for God, well, He can judge me later. Right now Caleb and I are surviving and tomorrow is unsure.."_

_"__Have you tried to grow…the plant?" Sigrid asked. _

_"__Yes, in a pot on the sill but it didn't even sprout. I don't know if they do something to it or if its not a real seed or what. All I know is that it reminds me of anisette in taste and it works. If you decide you want any, I'll give you some to take with you tomorrow and ask Ekala to bring more seeds for you. Nama can probably bring you some when you need more."_

_Sigrid wanly smiled. She didn't know if she should take the seeds, use them. But the image of her going mad, of Adam having to restrain her as Felicity had been, as her own mother had been, and then dragging her off to some asylum in this foreign land, it terrified her. _

~ 0 ~

Adam managed to push the old mattress out of the loft. When it fell, it landed on one end and fell over, Sigrid, who was standing in the parlor, gasped. There was a large stain, a deep-brown blood stain from the woman who had given birth. Sigrid said nothing and as Adam climbed down the laddered steps, he saw it and quickly looked to Sigrid who stood staring.

"I'll take it outside," Adam quickly said and Sigrid stepped back while Adam dragged it across the floor and far from the house where he set it on fire, watching for a minute or two before returning to the house.

"I'm sorry, Adam," Sigrid said, realizing her hands were shaking. "I should have helped you with it."

"No, no, it's all right. I want to get the cradle down."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Toss it on the flames." He started up the ladder and Sigrid rushed, grabbing a trouser leg.

"Why are you going to burn it? We might need it one day."

Adam stopped climbing. "If one day we have a child or children, I'll make their cradles." Sigrid said nothing more, just stepped aside when Adam came down with the cradle and went out to the fire. Sigrid moved to the window and could see where the flames burned and rose anew once he fed it with the wooden cradle.

Adam came back into the house and said, "Hand me the broom. I'll sweep up there."

"Don't be foolish; you're so tall you won't even be able to stand up so much as sweep." Sigrid walked to where Ekala had left the broom leaning against the wall.

"Wait," Adam said, putting his hand on the broom to stay it. "Let me empty the bureau and the closet first." It wasn't a true closet, basically a blanket on a thick line of rope with clothes folded or hung on hooks behind it.

"Why? Do you want to burn all their clothes as well?" That Adam wanted to remove all traces of the Flynn's and their misery angered her. She couldn't help but snap at him. And sudden guilt made her flush. She had promised to be a better wife and was woefully short.

Adam waited before answering and then his voice was calm and even. "No. I thought perhaps Madrigal's maid might want them or know of someone who did. Do you want that woman's clothes?"

"She's Felicity Flynn – not 'that woman'." Sigrid's lower lip quivered. She hadn't realized she felt so strongly about what had happened to Felicity. "And no, I don't want them. It would be like…putting on her skin."

Adam maintained his equanimity. "Well then, what do you want to do with them, with the clothes and their personal items? There are infant items up there as well."

She stared at Adam. He was trying so hard to spare her feelings, to protect her from the cruel realities of what had happened in that house, and she was nothing but angry and shrewish. "I'm sorry, Adam…I…" Sigrid put her arms about him and laid her head against his chest. He was so solid and warm and she could hear the powerful beat of his heart. Then his large hand held the back of her head.

"Don't apologize, Sigrid. It's to your honor that you're moved by the Flynn's tragedy; I can see how it could cause you trepidation; you might fear it could happen to you."

Sigrid looked up at him. "Yes, Adam. It could – it could happen to any woman but out here in this wildness…"

He tipped up her chin as she loosened her grip on him, and he bent over to kiss her lightly, offering her an indulgent smile. "You said that the woman who's going to help you has a baby. Maybe she could use some of the baby items. What do you think?"

Sigrid barely smiled. "Yes. I'll fold everything and then I'll sweep and we can move up the mattress."

A sound of rattling wagon traces and horses, along with men talking, floated in through the window.

"Must be the men from the mine. Caleb sent them over to help." Adam started to leave and then turned about and quickly kissed Sigrid again. "They're going to need to be fed lunch so let me get the supplies form the buckboard and bring them in. Just clang a pot when lunch is served." And Adam left, greeting the four men outside and introducing himself.

Sigrid looked up at the loft and then about her. This was her house and now she had to lay claim to the upstairs by clearing out any remnants of those who lived and loved and suffered under the roof before she and Adam arrived. And she slowly climbed the laddered steps.

Caleb rode up with Madrigal and Ekala and the women went into the house while the men set about their work.

"Sigrid? Where are you?" Maddy called, stepping inside..

Sigrid leaned out from the loft and replied, "I'm up here. Is Ekala with you?"

Ekala stepped into view and smiled her usual big, grin. "Mornin'. Missy. Nama not here today – be here tomorrow." Ekala picked up the bucket and started to go to the kitchen pump but Sigrid called her back. Madrigal watched, curious.

"Ekala, there are some baby clothes up here. Would Nama like them for her baby?"

"No, Missy. No. That child die." Ekala waved her free hand as she shook her head. "I wash the windows for light to come in. Sunshine cleans out death and sickness." And she slowly went about her work.

Maddy climbed up the steps and when she reached the top, she saw where the mattress had been, were small stacks of the clothes that had been in the bureau and behind the blanket, neatly folded on the floor.

"You've been busy. I'm sorry it took so long to get here. We were going to walk but Caleb told us to wait, that he'd get us after he chose the men to work out here today. They're a rough bunch so he wanted to choose the most amenable."

"That's all right. Adam and I had an argument of sorts." Sigrid held a blouse that she had been folding. "Everything up here – I just…" Maddy hugged her and Sigrid weakly smiled. "Do you think Ekala would want any of these for her people?"

"No. They believe that a person's spirit is in all they own, especially clothes that are in constant contact – but for some reason, not if the person is healthy and vital. Ekala will take anything I offer her and then give it to someone in her tribe."

"Do you want any of her things? I hate to throw them away. Oh, and I found a gold locket; it's empty – no hair or such. I don't know what to do with it." Sigrid pulled the small oval locket out of her apron pocket, showing it to Maddy.

"Tell you what, when Mr. Naples comes around, the peddler, trade him the clothes and the locket for what you might need."

"Oh, I can't take advantage of having these things. If we were in Nevada, I'd donate the clothes to the poor box and the locket to the church fund, but out here…" Sigrid stared at the locket and wondered if Felicity had ever worn it. "You take everything, Maddy. Caleb brought your wagon; we'll put them in there."

It took a bit of convincing but Maddy finally acquiesced and said she would let Ekala choose what she wanted from Mr. Naples for herself and her family the next time he came to her house in exchange for the items.

The men worked all morning, sealing up cracks in the horse troughs and caulking the walls to keep out insects as well as the wind and rain. The smokehouse needed repairing as well as the space where meat was hung to keep from any animal that had a taste for fresh pork or kangaroo. The men worked assiduously although Sigrid could hear them laugh and curse and banter while they hammered or lifted anything of weight.

For lunch, Sigrid cut thick slices of bacon, her hand slipping once, greasy from the meat. She reminded herself to be more careful; it wouldn't do to cut herself as there was no doctor to come and gently tend to her and stitch any deep cut. And she thought of Doctor Beaumont and what he might say about her new living conditions. But apparently, he had some idea what she would be facing – the medicine case was proof of that.

Maddy fried the canned beans and when she said that she should have brought a loaf of bread, Sigrid said the men can manage with soda crackers. As for drink, Adam had bought many jugs of hard cider which the men drank from all morning and by lunch, they were well soused. Maddy made a huge pot of coffee and with that, Maddy and Sigrid were ready to feed the men.

Adam called for the workers to stop – it was lunch - and the men sat on the buckboard, the tailgate down, with their plates of food, sharing a jug of cider among them. Adam and Caleb sat on a fallen tree trunk and ate their food, discussing what yet needed to be done as tomorrow, the men were needed at the copper mine.

Sigrid approached the men, a rough-looking group, with four coffee cups and the coffee pot and asked them if they wanted any. She hoped they'd accept and perhaps sober up a bit as they had obviously drunk too much. And Maddy had been correct - they were a rough bunch. Their ages varied but the hard life they led made them look older than their years. Their faces were tan and heavily lined, their nails begrimed. When they smiled, two had teeth missing but it didn't seem to matter much when it came to heavy drinking.

"Fill me a cup," a young man said, smiling, as he put his plate down. He reached out as if to take the cup for her to fill, but instead, he took her wrist. Sigrid was surprised. "So, you're the new boss' rib what we're breakin' our backs for, eh? My name's Busby and this is Vander, Whitman and that's Wilson."

The other men nodded, grinning, and Wilson said, "Whyn't you sit here with us? We don't mind sharing the company of one as pleasin' to see as you."

Sigrid opened her mouth but nothing came out. The men laughed more and Vander said that Sigrid was overwhelmed by Wilson's "crackin' good looks". Then they all roared because Wilson was the least attractive of them all. The young man released her wrist. "Got room right her on my lap for you if you don't care for Wilson." He patted his crotch and raised his brows.

Sigrid was stunned as no one had ever been so blatantly flirtatious and vulgar with her. She blushed deep red and all the men in the buckboard laughed and looked at one another, enjoying the joke among themselves, the young one called Busby, most of all. Sigrid was embarrassed and ashamed. She wished she could think of a clever reply, something that would put the man in his place. Instead, she just put down the coffee pot and hiking her skirt, hurried back to the house. She looked out the side window and Adam was talking with Caleb; he hadn't even noticed.

About 6:00, according to the mantle clock which, after being wound, ticked off the seconds of the days, Kulan came for Ekala, the men from the mine left, and Caleb and Maddy drove away. Sigrid looked about the house. It was now their house, hers and Adam's. It was clean and repaired and yet, Sigrid didn't feel any great joy. On their journey, she hadn't created a complete picture of what she thought she would find when they arrived, but this wasn't it in the least.

Adam walked in and seeing her grinned. "Well, we accomplished quite a bit today. Imagine the inside is in good shape too - looks nice in here." He noticed Sigrid's face and his spirit fell. "What's wrong?"

"At lunch, when I took coffee out to those men…they made comments. Called me your 'rib' and asked me to sit…well, one of them patted his privates. They all laughed as if it was a funny joke or something but I didn't think it was very funny. And you didn't even notice."

Adam sighed. "Sigrid, those men are hard-drinking, rough men. To them, I'm sure it was funny. They weren't serious – just giving you a hard time. You need to learn to tke things with a grain of salt and give it right back. They worked hard all day and it was probably a way to lighten things. As it is, the only things left are the washhouse and the outhouse. But it's time for a new outhouse anyway so I'll tackle it Sunday – dig a new hole and build a structure."

Sigrid didn't know what she wanted Adam to do about the workers, dismiss them, castigate them, beat them or take a buggy whip to them – but something. She wanted to anger him as she was angry. "Sunday? Adam, you can't work on Sunday."

"Sigrid, don't make pronouncements to me. Things need to be done around here and Sunday is just as good as any other day as far as I'm concerned."

"But, Adam, Sunday is to be kept holy as a day of rest – I'm sure you were taught that. On the ship, well, I didn't feel such a need to uphold the Bible's teachings but here in my own home…"

"How much longer do you want to go crouch and shit in the tress like an animal? Just tell me? A week? Two Weeks? A month?"

Sigrid was offended. "You shouldn't use such language with me; it's not proper. And we also shouldn't talk about such things as…outhouses."

"Jesus Christ! Sigrid, I've worked hard all day and I'm not in the mood for a lecture on my propriety – just accept I have none. And what subjects are proper between us and which aren't is ridiculous. We need an outhouse and that's all there is to it. Now, I need to wash up before dinner. Do I have time?" He waited, his hands on his hips, his jaw working, and Sigrid knew he was angry. Should she push him a little further? He hadn't rushed to her side when she was being teased by the men, when they laughed at her discomfiture. But Sigrid was wary of Adam's temper. She didn't fear he would strike her but…she didn't want to rouse the beast.

"Yes. You have time." Sigrid hoped she looked properly disapproving.

"Towel?"

Sigrid walked over to a chest that sat against the back wall and pulled out a towel and handed it to Adam. "There's a bar of soap in the kitchen."

"Thank you." Adam walked out to the back through the kitchen door and standing next to the repaired free-standing pump, stripped off his clothes and with a bucket, sluiced himself with water and proceeded to wash. Sigrid stood at the sink and watched him. She looked up at the cupboard and thought of the coffee cup in the back where she had poured the seeds from her handkerchief, then back at Adam. The hair on his chest was graying but he was virile and strong and she felt her desire for him rise within her; she couldn't tamp it down.

And Sigrid wondered if Mary Dawson had ever seen Adam like this and if she did, did she have the same reaction to the sight as she herself did? Did Mary Dawson feel the base hunger Sigrid felt? Oh, Sigrid thought, why was mankind given desire and lust for one another. How much easier her life would be if she didn't want to lay with Adam, if she didn't long to feel his hands on her, his broad shoulders above her and his mouth hotly devouring hers.

Sigrid sighed. Later, later… She had to fix Adam's dinner but she was loath to step away from the window.


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

After dinner, Sigrid pulled out her knitting to work on Adam's promised socks. There weren't yet any clothes to mend but she was certain there soon would be – rips and tears and worn buttons. She considered when Adam took her to Barakula, she would try to find an embroidery hoop and silk thread for needlepoint. The walls of the house were sadly bare and the colors and adage of a sampler would brighten up the place.

She glanced over at Adam who lay stretched out of the settee, his head on one of the padded arms, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, reading a book on British mining law he found in a small trunk in the hayloft that day. Adam had behaved as if the many books were a pirate's buried treasure as he opened it, having brought it into the house.

"Look, Sigrid. All types of books. Here's an old one – _Gulliver's Travels_." Sitting on the rug, Adam had held it up for her to see. "And here's a book by Goethe, _The Sorrows of Young Werther_." He pulled out one book and laughed, showing it to her. "Here's one you might like – _Fanny Hill or Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure._"

"If that's about what I think it is, you may just as well toss it in the fire." She knitted a bit more decidedly. A book about a woman of pleasure – in her house! But then, isn't that how the four men had treated her, teasing and joking with her as if she were a common barmaid or a slattern? And Adam had only brushed it off as cider-fueled ribaldry by coarse men who meant nothing more than a moment's entertainment.

Adam stood up and moved like a cat toward Sigrid while she sat knitting. He leaned down and spoke near her ear. "You could read it to me in bed." And he nuzzled her neck.

Sigrid shrugged him away. "Oh, Adam! You should be reading the Bible, specifically, Deuteronomy." But he was already laughing and went back to the trunk, chuckling to himself. He did enjoy teasing her about many things. All men were the same way, Sigrid decided – the four men at lunch and now Adam. All of them, the same vulgar sense of humor!

"And I suppose you still think it was funny that those men teased me the way they did – said what they said." Sigrid felt the heat of anger rise in her cheeks.

Adam jerked his head to look at her and then stood up. He walked over to where his boots stood. In Barakula, he had bought a pair for good and this pair was now relegated for work. He pulled them on, one at a time, leaning against the wall for balance. Then he picked up his rifle and jacked it. He was reaching for his hat when Sigrid realized what he was about to do. She stood up, dropping her knitting on the chair.

"Where are you going?"

"To the mining camp, the bunkhouses, and kill the men who insulted you." Adam put on his hat, pulling down the brim. "There's no law in this area so I may as well take it into my own hands." He opened the door and Sigrid slid in between him and it.

"Now, don't be foolish." She pushed the door closed behind her.

"But it bothers you so much and since I didn't shoot them at the time, well, I have to make amends or be thought a bad husband. Step aside, wife! Let me go defend thine honor!" Adam made a great show of reaching around her for the door latch.

"You've made your point. What they did isn't bad enough to be killed…" Sigrid felt silly. "Just…go back to your…books."

He looked down, tilting his head back to see her from under the lowered brim. "Are you certain about that? I can shoot them down like the mangy curs they are."

Sigrid huffed and went back to her knitting and Adam stood for a moment longer, a half-smile on his lips. Then he put down his rifle, took off his hat, and went back to the trunk and whatever was left as yet undiscovered.

Sigrid knitted for a while longer and still looking at her needles, said, "Adam, ready for bed?" When he didn't answer, she glanced over; he was sleeping, the open book lying on his chest. Sigrid placed her knitting back in the basket and walked over to wake Adam.

She stared down at him. His face was well-formed, decidedly masculine, strong brows, a cleft in his chin, and a heavy beard; often he had to shave twice a day. Sigrid reached one hand down to touch his mouth but her fingers hovered over them. The lips were slightly parted and such a contrast to the rest of his features – so innocent. She bent down and gently placed a kiss. Adam's eyes flew open – he was startled and the book slid off onto the floor - but then he saw her and grinned.

"It worked for Sleeping Beauty – just wanted to try it out on you." She smiled. "Let's go to bed." Sigrid waited while Adam picked the book up, tossing it in the settee, and then, reached out for her hand. She led him to the laddered steps, turned, smiled knowingly, and then released his hand to grasp the side bars. But, she told herself, she should have known better because with Adam behind her, she couldn't peacefully climb the steps – he slipped one hand up her dress and she couldn't slap his hand away. But she realized she didn't want to.

Later, as Sigrid lay next to Adam, she hesitantly asked, "Adam, have you thought about children?"

"I'm really tired, Sigrid. I need some sleep? Tomorrow is a full day." He sighed and pulled her closer. He was spent.

She wriggled out of his embrace and sat up, holding the sheet about herself. "We've never discussed children and I think we should talk about it and the sooner the better."

He sighed; Sigrid was bound and determined to discuss the matter and suddenly, dread strangled him. Adam sat up and faced her. The moonlight shimmered on her pale skin making it glow and he thought how beautiful she was.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you with child. It's possible – more than possible."

"No, Adam, I'm not." Her mind searched for the word she had heard that was polite and emotionally removed. "I'm not… 'enceinte'. I just want to know your feelings about children. I mean…there are ways a woman or a man can keep from becoming…"

"Enceinte," Adam said sardonically. "Yes, there are ways but if you have a pessary shoved up there, I didn't notice it."

Sigrid was glad it was dark as she flushed with embarrassment and anger. Why was he always so blunt? Or if not blunt, he was abstruse, as if he speaking another language?

"No, I don't have a pessary but…what if I used one? How would you feel?"

Adam watched her face. It was difficult to see the subtlety of expression that would let him know her thoughts. Then he understood. "Oh, so that's how it is."

"I don't know what you mean." Sigrid's heart thumped. Did he realize her fears?

"The Flynns, what happened to the wife."

"I don't…" There was no sense denying it. "What if it happened to me, Adam? Do you remember, the night you asked me to marry you, I asked if you were afraid I'd go mad like my mother?"

"I remember. I wasn't afraid then and I'm still not." But Sigrid's eyes were wide and she was clutching at the sheet. All the time they had been together, Adam had never thought about children, the logical consequence of their actions. After all, they were married, so it wasn't a concern, but now the full import of her fear infected him.

"Listen to me, Sigrid, and believe me - I never really thought of myself at my age with children. Don't misunderstand me - I like children and if we had a child or children together, I'd be happy for it. But if it came to you or a child, if I had to choose, I'd rather have you. My mother died after giving birth to me and while you may fear that insanity is your legacy, I fear that my legacy may be …" Adam found he couldn't say the words. Was he doomed to become a widower as his father had? No, that was illogical. Coincidence is coincidence. And yet his heart pounded. "But for us to truly fear such things, isn't that childish? Neither of us is cursed by what happened to our parents." He reached for her and pressed her against his chest. Sigrid threw her arms about his neck.

Adam thought of ways to console her, to remove her fears. "There are ways to prevent pregnancies – some used by men, some by women - but the only sure way I know is celibacy. I could go that route if needed, but there are alternate ways of..." He decided not to speak of it anymore. If Sigrid's desire rose again and she reached for him, he'd leave it to her to decide.

Her voice was ragged. "Then you don't think it would be a sin upon us, upon me, if I…"

"If you what?" He waited for her to speak.

She didn't want to draw Maddy in; if Adam became angry, it might cause a rift between Adam and Maddy, and then there was Caleb - Caleb didn't know about the seeds.

"The Aborigines have an herb or seed – something they take to keep from being constantly with child. I was just…I wanted to know how you would feel if…" Sigrid wished she had never broached the subject. Just toss the seeds out the window and let heaven's will be done. If she was to die giving birth to a child or go insane after, well, that would be her fate.

Adam lay back down, drawing Sigrid down with him. He stroked her hair while holding her about the waist, and was overcome with tenderness. How frightened she must be? "Are you saying that you want to use this herb?"

Sigrid barely spoke. "What would you think? Would you be angry with me?"

He ran his fingers along her arm. Her skin was smooth like Italian marble. What would she be like after twenty years, after slaving on this goddamn piece of land? And what would she be like if she did give birth to child after child, year after year, her body breaking down under it. "No. I wouldn't be angry."

Sigrid hugged him closer and Adam lay staring at the low ceiling. Sigrid had willingly come with him and he wanted a wife for his physical needs as well as a cook and a housekeeper. But Sigrid was more to him now, much more. And he didn't want to lose her. But what about a son or sons to inherit whatever small empire he created by the sweat of his brow? How driven was he to make another Ponderosa at his age?

And it was a long time before he fell asleep.

~ 0 ~

Adam left early for the copper mine. He told Sigrid they weren't going to work the silver mine until the papers were officially filed in Dalby.

But as they sat at breakfast, Sigrid was still anxious as the seeds sat, untouched in the back of the cupboard. She wrestled with bringing up the topic of children again. It was Adam who did.

"Before I leave today, well, I didn't sleep well last night – I kept going over our conversation and I want to say something."

"Adam, all you have to say is that you want children as soon as possible and I'll…" He reached out and took her hand.

"There's a bit of male ego involved with having children – particularly sons. My father would swell with pride whenever one of his sons succeeded in anything – even learning to shit in a pot instead of nappies." Sigrid smiled and ducked her head. Adam leaned toward her. "And I don't know why it is that impregnating a woman is seen as a brilliant achievement when dogs can couple in the streets and roosters can tread all the hens in the coop in one afternoon. But it is. I have to admit although I don't see myself surrounded by my progeny, I would welcome children."

Sigrid pulled away her hand and dropped her head. "I understand, Adam."

"No, you don't." He waited until she looked at him before he continued. "I'm not the one who'd have to carry the child while slaving around here, who'd have to accept all the ailments that come with bearing children or to lie in a bed and bleed like Felicity Flynn did." Sigrid's mouth opened but Adam took her hand again. "I've never seen a woman give birth but looking at that mattress stained with her blood, well, it brought it home to me. As I'm sure it did you." Sigrid barely nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"I'm hoping," Adam said, leaning forward, his face eager, "that in maybe two years or a little more, I can build you a decent house closer to Barakula or maybe Dalby. I can order what I need – cypress boards shipped from California or suppliers in Nevada. Bricks and maybe some rose wallpaper. And if I build it in a town or city, we can have gas lights and a water closet…" he chuckled. "No outhouse." Sigrid smiled through her unshed tears. "Sigrid, my wife…" Sigrid looked up at him. "If you have a way, if you want to wait to have children, I leave it to you."

"You won't resent me?"

He softly laughed. "How could I resent you?" And he stood up to leave but didn't release her hand. Instead, he leaned over and touched her face, then kissed her, a long lingering kiss that caused Sigrid to think he was going to take her up to the loft. The he broke off the kiss and said he had to leave – there was work to be done.

She went to the window and waited while he saddled his horse, the big stallion, Zeus, he had purchased. Adam said the mare, Hera, was showing signs of being in season and soon, if Zeus did his job, they'd have a foal.

Adam finally rode out and Sigrid, clutching her throat, watched him ride away. Then she went to the kitchen and pulled out the cup holding the seeds, picked one out and chewed it. Madrigal said it tasted like anisette but to Sigrid, it was merely bitter.

"You must be Nama," Sigrid said to the lanky Aboriginal woman who shyly smiled and nodded. "And you have your baby! May I see him?"

Sigrid stepped aside and Nama stepped in the house. Her child was in a sling on her back but she shrugged her shoulder to bring the child to the front. Sigrid guessed him to be a few months – 6 at the most and reached out to caress his head but paused; it may not be proper.

"May I?" The mother nodded, smiling, and Sigrid ran her hand lovingly over the child's head. The baby opened his eyes but then closed them again, continuing his nap. "What's his name?"

"Taree," she answered, still smiling.

"You must be very proud," Sigrid said but Nama only shrugged and then asked for work. Sigrid was hesitant. After all, here was a young mother – how old she was, Sigrid couldn't tell, but as yet, her face didn't show the deep creases of her mother Ekala's – and what work she should be set to was confusing. Especially with the child on her back.

Sigrid looked about and then mentioned the clothes that needed washing. But the washhouse wasn't set up yet and so she… Sigrid never finished as Nama, in the same determined yet unhurried way of her mother, scooped up the clothes that sat in a pile by the far wall and smiling again as she passed Sigrid, went out to the washhouse.

Sigrid finished the breakfast dishes and donning her bonnet, went out the kitchen door to the overrun garden. A rusting garden trowel, a gardening fork and a rake Adam found in the barn were waiting on a small wooden bench and she set about weeding and ripping out the weeds and dead plants. It was probably too late to plant almost everything as the past few months, what would be autumn back in Nevada but spring here, was the time to plant. But as Mrs. Hellström had told her, better to keep things tidy by tending every day then turn around one day and find chaos. "And," the housekeeper had added, "it's the same with one's soul; keep daily from sin and instead of praying on one's deathbed for God's forgiveness, you will have maintained your faith with Him."

As she bent over the plot of ground, she heard rustling in the brush and froze. She reached for the fork – it could be used as a weapon although the tines weren't overly sharp. Yet with enough force, they could pierce flesh. What if it was Busby, the young miner who had worked there yesterday? What if he had decided he wanted her and seeing Adam at the mine, decided to ride out and take her? She waited, barely breathing, but nothing happened. She stood up and looked about and then she saw two Aboriginal children who ducked down in the trees and brush near the house, covering their laughs and smiles with their hands.

Sigrid smiled to herself and went back to the garden. She worked for another minute or so, listening to the children whispering to one another, and then, casually, walked to the washhouse. Nama was working at the clothes, moving them about in the large tin tub of water as if she was kneading bread. A bar of laundry soap sat untouched on one of the wooden shelves along with a paddle for pounding grime or moving clothes about in hot water, and a washboard. Nor had Nama bothered to boil any water – the large pot stood cold as well as the huge ladle. Perhaps, Sigrid thought, it was because Nama's infant lay happily cooing on the open cloth sling spread on the dirt floor while Nama sang a tune.

"Nama," Sigrid said.

Nama looked up. "Yes, Missy?"

Sigrid put her finger to her lips and then motioned. The two women stepped out. Sigrid pointed and two heads ducked down behind some brush. "Are they yours?"

For the first time, Nama walked purposely out and shouted something to the children who laughed and then took off running. Then Nama calmly walked back into the washhouse and Sigrid followed with the purpose of showing Nama how clothes should be washed. Together they found fuel to boil water and Sigrid showed her how the soap could be dissolved. Apparently, Nama didn't care for that because then the clothes would have to be rinsed thoroughly. But if that was what Missy wanted… Then the two women strung the downed clothesline and with her baby slung over her back, Nama proceeded to lay the wet laundry over the lines to dry. Sigrid decided she needed to add clothes pins to her list of items from the peddler.

Whenever the infant fussed, Nama moved the child to her front and nursed it. Sigrid watched with curiosity as Nama seemed so attuned to the infant that she would stop and hold the child out when it needed to urinate or defecate. Then she would use a cloth she kept in the sling to wipe the boy and replace him in his sling or let him lie on the ground.

Nama stopped either to tend to her child or to eat the food she brought. Sigrid offered her lunch but Nama said she would eat her own food; it helped with the baby. As Sigrid was working in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, Nama came in and said it was the end of work and started to leave. Sigrid said, she would see her Monday and Nama looked puzzled.

"Tomorrow's Sunday. You don't have to work on Sunday." Nama looked confused. "Sunday is a holy day for us, a day of rest. So, you come back the day after tomorrow. Is that all right?"

Nama smiled. "In two sunrises," she said, nodded and left. Sigrid wished Adam would be that obliging about resting on Sunday. But she did want the new outhouse built.

~ 0 ~

Sigrid sat in the rocking chair. It was white with roses painted where one's head would rest. She kept looking at the mantel clock. Adam was late; it was almost 9:00 and had already been dark for an hour. Her knitting had ceased to soothe her and sat ignored in the basket. Dinner was on the stove; the fire had died down, a few flames still attempting to live. She gripped the arms of the chair as she rocked, trying to control her fear. Where was he? If there had been an accident at the mine, Caleb would have ridden over and told her. There was no nearby town where he could stop for a drink with Caleb or anyone else. So, where was he?

Hearing a sound outside, Sigrid headed to the window. This was at least the twelfth time she had hoped it was Adam and this time she was rewarded as he rode into the yard. She went weak with relief and headed to the door, flinging it open. Upon seeing her, Adam grinned and dismounted, still holding a length of rope.

"Bought a Jersey cow and her calf. They cost me dear but who can refuse a beautiful face like that and those huge eyes?" Smiling, he pulled the cow closer, reaching out to run a hand over her broad face with the black nose surrounded with white hair, her small, tan calf prancing up next to her, bawling and butting her udders. "He's been trying to grab a meal all the way here. I was thinking about the name Pansy – maybe Brutus for the calf. What do you think?"

"I think you're unspeakably late and I've been worried sick." Sigrid stood her ground. He had caused her such distress and was now grinning like a schoolboy showing off a new jackknife.

"Well, I'm sorry, Sigrid, but I told you I'd buy us a cow and this man has a whole herd of Jerseys. The farm was further off than I thought and his wife invited me to dinner – their name is Niven. Nice couple with five of the noisiest children I've ever met, but it was one of the best dinners I've had in a long time – not that what you cook isn't good. I didn't mean to suggest that."

"Well, thank you for that small kindness," Sigrid said. "As I sat waiting for you, my dinner went cold – I'm sure it's not good anymore. Besides, it can't measure up to Mrs. Niven's, I'm sure. Here I was, having no idea what happened to you, and you're off talking and laughing and having a grand old time eating another woman's dinner with not one thought for me."

"They're nice people, Sigrid, and it's the way of doing business. It's not as if I tumbled the woman – I just ate her food. I'm sorry about missing dinner but I can still eat it if it's that important to you. Besides, I would have been here sooner but cows don't run. There wasn't much I could do about that."

"Did you ever think about me once, worry about me here all alone?"

Adam fiddled with the cow's rope. "Look, I'm sorry. I apologize. I did think of you. I thought that having a cow we could now have milk and butter. I thought it would help – you've lost all that weight and maybe with a little cream in your coffee and butter on your bread – oh," he brightened up. "Mr. Niven threw in a sack of flour. Here." He dropped the rope and untied a sack from his saddle horn and handed it to her. She hugged it to herself. "But also, well, I decided you need shooting lessons, maybe tomorrow, so Niven sold me a small pistol – a .22. I told him my wife spent days alone on the farm. You should know how to handle a gun since I'm gone so much."

"Shooting lessons. Before or after you build the outhouse?" She was shaking she was so angry but unlike her, Adam only became calmer. His smile was gone and his face was blank. He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to think better as he said nothing more, just turned and led both his horse and the cow into the barn, the calf trotting after.

As Sigrid stood watching, tears stung her eyes. He was the most frustrating man. He had thought about her, wanted to buy the cow for her for her health, but he didn't think of her in the way she wanted him to. She wanted him to rush home every night to her arms because he couldn't bear being away from her a moment longer and after last night and the talk they had…it was no use. He was never going to change. And Sigrid knew she either had to accept him or leave him. One or the other.


	20. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

Sigrid woke up suddenly as from a loud noise. Adam still slept peacefully beside her, one arm crooked over his head. Something…there was something…then she remembered last night, remembered their argument, and how Adam pulled her into his arms and kissed her in that manner. Oh, she had never experienced such an arousal of passion! Sigrid covered her face with her hands. She had behaved horribly, like a brazen, shameless trollop. A night like that – with all she had not only allowed, but encouraged him to do. All her inhibitions had dissolved and she had opened herself to him. No woman could do such things and still be considered 'decent'. How could she face him after all that? What he must think of her!

Slowly and carefully, Sigrid crawled over her sleeping husband and picked her dress, chemise and drawers off the floor. She pulled the dress over her head and climbed down after tossing her underclothes before her; they needed to be washed. Once downstairs, she paused. She needed to go to the outhouse – oh, if only the new one was already built! And she needed to wash. But first, she needed to take care of matters and went into the kitchen to pull down the coffee cup and pick out a seed.

The water was cool and Sigrid tentatively lowered herself into the washtub and sighed in relief as she drew her knees up and rested in the soothing coolness. She wrapped her arms about her knees and dropped her head on them, going over the previous night. She would never be able to forget the wild way she had behaved – she had lost all her tightly-held control and behaved antithetical to her upbringing in the church and the way she had been raised. She didn't know who she was anymore.

Last evening, they had been coldly polite to one another, Sigrid making a pot of coffee and then taking up her knitting while Adam stretched out on the settee with his cup. He didn't read or clean his gun, just watched her, making her edgy – she dropped a stitch.

"Do you have to watch me like that? You're like a cat at a mousehole."

"Sorry." He sat up, taking another sip. "I think I'll go up to bed. Goodnight, Sigrid." He paused but she didn't say anything.

After some time passed, Sigrid put down her knitting, rubbed her temples, and then went up to the loft; she hoped Adam was asleep so she wouldn't have to speak to him again, so she quietly undressed and wearing only her chemise, she crawled over him. But Adam turned and slipped an arm about her. She gasped in surprise as he pulled her down.

"I thought you would be asleep," she said, pulling away.

"I'm sure you did, but I wanted to tell you I'm going to Dalby Monday – be back Wednesday evening. Write out a list of what you want."

"Now you tell me – but I suppose I should be thankful you told me at all and didn't just ride off and not come back for three days! I can't believe you're leaving me alone for two nights out here!"

"You can spend the nights at Maddy's – I think that would be best since Caleb's coming along. But I told you I'd teach you to use a gun and I also told you days ago I had to go to Dalby to register the partnership and to transfer money from America to the bank there. Why are you acting as if this is the first time you heard it?"

She clambered off the bed and called him thoughtless and inconsiderate. He didn't seem to care about her at all. He replied that he did care, that he was breaking his back making this place fit for her, trying hard to please her and she appreciated none of it. She stormed at him. Did he expect her to appreciate being left alone hour after hour while he waltzed all over the countryside socializing and making new friends? And now he was going to Dalby for three days and while he would be having a wonderful time out and about, she would be mucking-out stalls, feeding the animals and as for Pansy, well, she knew nothing about milking cows!

Adam swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed her wrist but she struggled to pull away. His eyes snapped with anger. Did she expect him to sit next to her every evening and sip tea while she knitted? There were matters to take care of, legal issues and the sooner the better. And it's not as if he sat on his ass day in and day out, doing nothing. Outraged, Sigrid struck him with her free hand; she had lost control and felt wild. Adam grabbed her other wrist to keep her from flailing at him. She tried to twist her arms away but he held on firmly. She stared at him, wide-eyed. He was watching her, his lips parted, and she suddenly realized that she wanted him more than she ever had. His name escaped her lips and he looked at her, waiting. And then he softly spoke her name. Sigrid collapsed into his arms, both of them falling back onto the bed. He crushed her mouth with his, overwhelmed with an unrestrained hunger. And this time, she was his equal in passion.

Her face burned with shame. She couldn't bear thinking about it. Reaching for a chipped coffee mug, she poured the cool water over her head and it laved her hot face. What would she do now, she thought? What should she do? How could she possibly redeem herself in Adam's eyes – or in her own?

As she was walking back to the house, her wet hair hanging over her shoulders, her dress clinging to her as she had neglected to take a towel, Adam stepped out on the porch wearing only his trousers, and grinned at her. He reached out for her as she approached him, but she stopped.

"I just washed. If you wouldn't mind…"

"I'm not going to roll about in the dirt with you, Sigrid, just…" His hand and went out to her again but seeing her face, it dropped.

"I need to start coffee and soak those white beans. I heard Pansy mooing – I think she's hungry. And Zeus is kicking at his stall while Hera is whinnying. They must be hungry too."

Adam looked over at the barn. He could hear Zeus, huffing and snorting. "I better get on my boots and let them both loose in the corral; its not hay he wants. In about a year, we may have a foal." But as Sigrid passed him, he caught her about the waist, smiling. "Its not just Zeus who fancies the pretty filly next to him." He bent to kiss Sigrid and she wanted to resist him – but couldn't.

"Wasn't last night enough to hold you for a time?"

"That only whetted my appetite." He wanted to kiss her again but she twisted away and hurried inside and he was left puzzling over what he had done wrong.

Sigrid was rolling biscuits; the gift of flour from the Nivens' served her well. When Adam finished with the horses and Pansy, he walked back in and stood behind her. She knew he was there and yet she couldn't speak.

"I'm not quite sure why you're upset, but if it's about last night, I'm sorry over the way I behaved. I shouldn't have, I suppose, but I thought, from the way you acted, that you enjoyed it. I didn't force you to do those things; God knows you can't be compelled to do anything you don't want to." His voice took on a sarcastic edge. "I suppose, I was just overwhelmed by your feminine charms. But it does seem like I'm always apologizing to you., doesn't it?" And he walked away.

Adam worked outside all day and saw Zeus nipping at Hera and attempting to mount her while she twisted and turned to avoid him. "Females," Adam whispered. "They tempt you and tease you and then just when you think all is well, they refuse you. Good luck, Zeus."

He set up the washhouse where the water could be boiled in the big pot raised off the ground on a metal brace so a fire could easily be built beneath. "Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble," Adam said to himself. He vented the room with louvres – the most difficult part - and covered them with screening. In the winter, the louvres could be closed by pulling on the bar that opened and closed them. He also graded the floor so that any water would easily drain out and paved the floor with smooth stones he found in the vicinity. It was while he was looking for stones that he found the grave.

The wheelbarrow was rusty but it served although the wheel squealed and groaned as he rolled it about. He had already found quite a few stones that would serve his purpose, probably more than he needed and the wheelbarrow was becoming heavy, but he considered starting on a walkway as well. Not that it would lead to anywhere or from anywhere but it would look nice and please Sigrid. And he could delineate an area next to the house as a flower bed.

He had set down the wheelbarrow and was searching when he saw the wooden cross at the end of a small mound of dirt that was now covered with leaves and other detritus from the surrounding trees. It was such a small grave, no longer than his forearm, and far from the house. Adam realized this must be the second site for the grave, the first one disturbed by Felicity Flynn, had been too close and Mark Flynn must have dug the second grave much further away. He wondered if Sigrid had been out this far and seen it. But no, she would have mentioned it. Adam gazed at the grave a few seconds longer, then turned and set about looking for stones. He had things to do and sentimentality was a hindrance – and irrational. There was nothing he could do or should do, he told himself, but then…maybe once they had a garden, he would bring flowers to the lonely grave among the tall trees.

The washhouse was finished and Adam was deciding on a spot for the new outhouse when Sigrid called him to lunch. Adam considered refusing out of spite – it would annoy her - but changed his mind. Instead, he called he'd be there soon and washed up. As he approached the house, he smelled the warm, yeasty odor of bread.

"Fresh bread?" he asked, sitting at the table.

"Yes, I spent the morning making some. And while you were busy, I went out to the chicken coop – just checking – and some of the chickens are laying, so we have eggs and bread for lunch."

Adam noticed a piece of paper on the table and unfolded it as Sigrid sat down, setting the hot coffee pot on a folded towel. "These are he things you need from Dalby?" Adam asked.

"Yes. Those are the basic things every kitchen needs." Sigrid poured the coffee.

"All right. I'll take it with me." Adam refolded the paper and sat it back where it had been. And except for him saying that he'd teach her how to milk Pansy and skim cream once he had more time, they didn't speak. Sigrid was afraid to look up as she felt his eyes fixed on her the whole time.

He worked the rest of the day and into the evening, digging a deep hole and building a whole new outhouse. He'd take an axe to the old one and make kindling. Adam found a bit of irony in the fact that with as much as he knew about architecture and engineering, here he was building an old-fashioned outhouse as so many had done before.

It was close to dark when he finished. His back ached and he was weary. It was too late to teach Sigrid to shoot but he'd explain the workings of the small .22 he had placed on the mantle beside the fancy teapot which held about $30.00 in silver coins. The rest of the money, the paper notes, were in a small wood chest hidden in a lower kitchen counter.

Adam stretched his back. He wasn't looking forward to Dalby – he had too much to do about here and it would have been far better to stay home than leave Sigrid for three days, but the paperwork was necessary. He was also going to pay any outstanding taxes on the Flynn property and claim it for himself and Sigrid.

"Adam, dinner is ready." Sigrid stood on the porch. She had been watching him work from the back window while she chopped carrots and onions which she fried in bacon grease; they would be stirred into the white beans simmering on the stove. She wished Mr. Nivens had given Adam a few cuts of beef; she could make a nice stew. And then she remembered what she was going to say to Adam and how the beef may not even matter anymore – at least to her. She practiced the words while she worked.

"Let me wash up first," he said and went to the washhouse. All day he'd felt a darkness as if the sun had lost some of its brightness, but he pulled off his clothes and siting on the wooden bench, he poured water over himself, using the laundry soap to wash. And then he just sat, pouring water over his head and it was such a relief that he didn't want to stop. Actually, he wanted to cry and couldn't understand why.

He walked into the house, his dirty clothes wadded in his hand, wearing only his boots that he left by the front door.

"Adam, don't come in here like a naked savage!" Sigrid was putting dinner on the table.

"It's my goddamn house and if I want to walk around naked I will. But as it happens, my clothes are filthy and I just bathed. Now, where should I put these?"

"There. In that basket." She pointed to a basket she had found in the barn; it would serve as a laundry hamper at the foot of the laddered stairs. The dirty clothes could be tossed down as removed.

At dinner, Adam complimented Sigrid on the beans and talked about the washhouse and how it should be more comfortable now, about the stones as the floor and in the winter, the louvres could be closed and the fire under the hot water would keep the place warm. She thanked him for it and for the outhouse. Adam chuckled at that, and when she asked what was funny, he said that it struck him odd, her thanking him for what he and his brothers called a "shit house". That was all.

But they ate in silence and after, while she washed the dishes, Adam pulled out a dishtowel, volunteering to dry.

"You don't have to do that - I'll do it."

"No, I'll help. Besides, I want to talk to you." He held a plate and wiped it with the towel. "In a way," he added, "I'm glad the Flynns left all these household items behind. Dishtowels. I never would have thought of dishtowels."

"What did you want to talk about as I have something to say as well." Sigrid kept her eyes on the dishwater. She swished the soap cage with its enclosed bar of soap to make more suds.

"You talk first." His heart raced. He had been so happy that morning, luxuriating in the sheets on which he and Sigrid had exchanged words of endearment. Last night he had whispered in her ear as she lay with her head on his chest, his heart thumping after his exertions, that he loved her, that he couldn't have chosen a better woman to accompany him. And she had reached up and held his face while she kissed him with her whole soul behind it. And then her lips had traveled along his hot skin and she pleased him again. Sigrid had been passionate and abandoned all her usual reserve; she had thrilled him to his very toes. And then this morning, she behaved as if they had never experienced such intimacy.

"All right. I've been thinking about our situation, about the years ahead and this place and…well, I thought I was a strong woman but now I don't think I am. I wanted so much to be an adventuress and considered that another life, any other choice of a life would be better and more wonderful than staying in Virginia City and living in my father's house. But now I'm not so sure…" Sigrid's voice broke and a sob caught in her throat. "I don't know that I can live out here anymore….

"Nothing is what I expected. Look at this house – it's really nothing more than a hovel, and way out here, nowhere really, with no doctors or such. I just keep thinking about the $300.00 my father gave me to return. It's so tempting to just…"

"Are you saying you want to leave here?" Adam almost said "leave me" but chose not to.

"Adam, I've changed so much that I don't recognize myself anymore! I don't know who I've become. I'm ashamed of my actions, my behavior – I've lost all trappings of civilized behavior!" She held onto the side of the counter.

Adam tossed the towel on the counter. "You do what you need to make you happy. I won't beg you to stay with me, if that was what you hoped for. I told you last night that I loved you and it wasn't spoken in the 'heat of passion' – I meant it then and I mean it now. Because I do love you and want only what's best for you, if you decide to leave, then go. I'll manage without you.

"Caleb and I are leaving early for Dalby so I need to get my things together. I'll sleep on the settee so I won't wake you in the morning. Oh, and take some of the money – you should have at least another $200.00 dollars and make sure you book passage on a good ship. I'll be taking Zeus so if you want to take the buckboard and Hera, take enough supplies along…just make sure Pansy and Brutus get to the Morgans."

Sigrid turned. "Oh, I wouldn't leave while you're gone."

Adam smirked. "Of course not. That would be too easy. I imagine you want to see my face when you walk out."

"No, it's not that - I don't know the way and…"

He laughed. "You expect me to take you back to Brisbane? Not only are you running from me, but I'm supposed to help you go."

"No, I just…"

"Tell you what, Sigrid, just for old times' sake and all the tender moments we shared, I'll help - hire someone from the mine to escort you. Maybe your friend Busby will volunteer. Make for an interesting ride." He winked at her and walked out.

Sigrid stared after him. She was shaking. Adam was snide and nasty but then, what had she really expected? She had finally pushed Adam too far, implied she wanted to leave and was now forced to suffer the consequences of her rash talk; there was no backing down now.

~ 0 ~

The night for Sigrid was interminable. A few times, she crept out of bed and looked downstairs to see Adam sleeping, the blankets loose about him. Once she even sat on the edge of the loft, her feet hanging down, and watched him for almost a half hour, wondering if she should wake him and ask him if he wanted her to stay; her determination was faltering. But Adam would more than likely just tell her he was tired of it all and for her to go. Or worse, he would laugh at her. It wasn't until early morning that she finally fell asleep or Adam's first stirrings would have woken her. Instead, she woke, groggy and listened intently – something had woken her. And then she discerned that it was men talking – Adam and Caleb Morgan. Sigrid hurried down and ran to the window in time to see the two men ride away. And the clock chimed six times.

The day was crawling by as slowly as the night had. In the distance, dark clouds threatened but that morning, Nama showed for work, smiling, her baby on her back. She started on the laundry and smiled at how the washhouse looked.

"Very fine," Nama said, smiling as she looked at the stones Adam had snugged against one another.

"Yes. My husband did it." Sigrid suddenly realized how much that meant – _her_ husband. Together, Nama and Sigrid filled the boiling pot and heated the water and once it was hot enough, started washing Adam's clothes and hers, the towels that had been stored and those that had been used. Sigrid, wringing the clothes and watching how the water disappeared between the stones and drained to the right side of the washhouse was impressed with Adam's knowledge; he did know how to manage things about the place.

As they hung the clothes over the line, Sigrid mentioned the distant clouds but Nama only nodded and continued. Nama wasn't one to talk. And when they finished, the baby having started to fuss, Nama sat under a tree and nursed the child.

"It's time for lunch. I made some bread last night and have some left. Would you like some bread? I don't have any butter yet but – oh, and I have eggs from our chickens. You can have some to take home with you. Would you like some bread?"

Nama smiled and nodded and when Sigrid gave her a thick slice, she smiled again and thanked Sigrid. Then, the child, Taree, being sated, Nama laid him down on the sling in the open and he pumped his small legs, arching his back. Nama quickly put the slice between her lips and snatched up the child, holding him over the grass and Sigrid had to smile at Nama's timing. Then, returning the child to the sling, Nama sat and calmly ate while the infant sucked his fist and looked about.

"Nama," Sigrid asked, "may I hold Taree?" Nama nodded and walked to the pump to drink, so Sigrid reached down for the boy and cuddled him in her arms. She held the small hands, noting how tiny the fingers were, while Nama ate the rest of her lunch, offering some to Sigrid who took a small piece of fruit that was slightly sweet but left an odd feeling on her tongue. Taree looked up at Sigrid with his pale brown eyes as she talked and cooed to him. But she found her arms ached with emptiness when it was time to place him down and resume working.

She and Nama were enlarging the vegetable garden when she heard the sound of bells jingling and the creak of wagon axles and most unusual of all, a loud voice singing opera. She had no idea what the song was or the opera – but Adam would. Sigrid stood up and watched a large caravan wagon approach. On the side it listed household items carried but as stated, there was more and suggested the buyer need only ask. The wagon pulled into the yard.

A large man with a graying moustache and wild gray hair topped with the oddest hat Sigrid had ever seen, leaped down from the high seat. "Good afternoon! I am Alberti Naples and Mrs. Morgan, your neighbor, said you may be in need of some household items. Even if you're not, it is still a delight to meet you."

They exchanged pleasantries and Sigrid bought a butter churn, a few bars of lavender soap, a large tin of sweet biscuits, a sack of brown sugar, a set of canisters and a new tin pail – Pansy would require one. When it came to bread boxes, Sigrid had to decide upon one with the elegant scripted word ~_Bread~_, or one with yellow daises. She chose the daisies. She told Nama to choose anything she wanted – it was hers for her work so far. Nama smiled shyly and then, looking through the items in the wagon, she chose a brightly colored shawl with a yellow background and covered in multi-colored roses and with long red fringes on all sides. Sigrid paid for all the items with the coins in the teapot and Nama made a sling out of the shawl and slung Taree back over her shoulders, admiring the fabric.

Mr. Naples said he'd return in another month and wished Sigrid much happiness and joy in her new home. Sigrid smiled; Mr. Naples means well, she thought. And then the wagon swayed away while Mr. Naples began to sing another piece of opera that resounded through the trees.

Thunder rumbled and Sigrid told Nama to go home. Tomorrow? Nama asked and Sigrid said yes. As the sun fell, Sigrid sat on the porch and watched the dark clouds take over the sky and then she went inside, bolting the door. She passed an evening in the quiet house where it as just her and tea and biscuits for dinner. Then, double-checking the bolted front door, Sigrid climbed the ladder alone and pulling off her dress and drawers, she lay down on the mattress alone. But she was troubled. What was Adam doing right now? They must be in Dalby, staying in a hotel and eating hotel food. Had Adam told Caleb about their argument, said that Sigrid was leaving him? And was Adam finding comfort in some whore's arms while she lay there in their bed alone?

Not that she didn't deserve it. She did. But what did it matter? Once she was gone, when she put her feet back on American soil, she wouldn't give Adam Cartwright another thought. Let him make his fortune without her. She wanted nothing more to do with him - but she couldn't answer the question as to why?

That night, Sigrid had only been asleep a few hours when she was awakened by thunder crashing and the lightning strikes seemingly right outside her window. She pulled the sheet up to her chin and lay still, waiting out the storm which finally passed, but the rain still pattered on their tin roof. The next morning, it was still raining and when Sigrid opened the door, she saw that the yard was flooded. If there weren't four steps up to the house, the water would have seeped in under the door. She closed and bolted the door, hugging herself. What was the weather like in Dalby?

As she sat eating the last of her bread which now was slightly stale, Sigrid heard a noise in the front. She was sure it was Nama, come to work but when she looked out, it was a figure on a horse who wore a poncho with the hood up, the rest of it covering the person's body. She went to the mantle and took down the .22. Before she had gone up to bed, Adam had shown her how to load it; the small box of ammunition was in the desk drawer. And as for firing, he had said to point it at the person and pull the trigger but to make sure it was someone who deserved it – hopefully, not him.

The gun wasn't yet loaded but Sigrid knew the other person wouldn't know that, so when he knocked, Sigrid stood nervously on the other side of the door, her hand holding the .22, shaking.

"Who is it?"

"It's me! Madrigal!"

Sigrid threw back the bolt and opened the door and grabbing Maddy's wrist, pulled her in.

"Wait, wait," Maddy said, taking one step inside. "I don't want to drip all over the floor! Let me put my horse in the barn and take this off and leave it on your porch. Then we'll have a little visiting time as Ekala won't come during the rain and I'm guessing Nama won't either. And days like this are lonely."


	21. Chapter 21

**Twenty-one**

Maddy stayed through early afternoon, enjoying the sweet biscuits and tea. Before she left, Sigrid showed her what she had purchased from Mr. Naples. "And now I can make a pie – that is if I can find any berries. Of all the things Adam bought in Barakula, he didn't buy sugar."

"Oh, I'll show you some bush tucker plants! They're sweet in themselves and will keep your bowels running if you eat too many but they make a fine pie. There're wild plums deeper in the bush but I wouldn't recommend you go hunting them – don't know what else you'll come across. And I'll show you a clutch of blue lilly pilly bushes almost hallway between us. Caleb loves those and Adam probably will too. Just bring a basket one day and we'll walk out in the bush…" Maddy stopped. "What's wrong, Sigrid?" Maddy noticed that at the mention of Adam liking lilly pilly berries, Sigrid's face looked odd.

"Oh, I just…oh. Maddy, Adam and I had an argument of sorts and I told him I wanted to go back to America." Her lips quivered as she tried not to cry.

Maddy put an arm about her shoulders. "And what did he say about you leaving?"

"To take…" she found herself helpless against the tears that rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away only to have more follow. "He told me to take more money and secure a good passenger ship. He didn't seem to care at all if I stayed or went."

"Now, now." Maddy directed Sigrid to the settee and they both sat down. "I can't tell you how many arguments Caleb and I have had – I've threatened to leave him many times and he's said he was leaving me and never coming back many times over. But here we are, still together. Arguments are normal between husband and wife, and I guess, between any two people who live together."

"No, this wasn't…" Sigrid said. "I don't think things can ever be put right."

Maddy waited and then said, "Do you want to tell me what the argument was about? You don't have to, but if you think it will help..."

"I want to tell you about it. I need to know if I've lost all perspective on things. We argued about – about how I've changed. Well, not Adam, he didn't really argue, he just became nasty and snide and said things…he said he'd do fine without me." Sigrid pulled out the handkerchief she had tucked into the waistband of her apron and wiped her eyes.

"Oh, I see," Maddy said. "Sigrid, Adam needs to understand that Australia changes a body. He shouldn't be upset that you've changed, that you're not the same woman he married – we all have to change and adapt. When he returns from Dalby…"

Sigrid looked at Maddy, her brow furrowed. "No, you don't understand. Adam seems delighted in how I changed. It's me - I don't like how I've changed."

Maddy was surprise; it wasn't what she had expected to hear. But she listened while Sigrid told her about what Adam had said about children, that she had to carry them, not he and so she should be the one who decides if and when she becomes with child. Although she was grateful that it was her health he put before having sons, it was she who had to manage not to end up with a" big belly." And then, the next night, they had argued about his leaving for Dalby, and finally, oh, she found herself at that moment both hating him and so strongly drawn to him at the same time that she didn't understand her own feelings! Sigrid covered her face and told Maddy she couldn't describe the things she did with Adam, things no decent woman would ever do but which had been her choice – she would have done anything to pleasure him. She had betrayed her upbringing and most of all, with the secret seeds she took, she had betrayed God by trying to assert control over fate itself.

"Sigrid," Maddy said. "You aren't awful or indecent. You're his wife and although what you think you did was, well…doesn't your religion teach you to be submissive?" "Maddy looked for anything that might help comfort Sigrid.

Sigrid sat up and wiped away the last of her tears. "I wasn't submissive. I took control."

"Oh…I see." Maddy tried not to smile but she could almost visualize Adam lying on his back and being serviced by his lovely wife. "Well, he's your husband and…."

"No, not really."

"What do you mean? Even if you two aren't married, well, relationships such as that are very common out here. A man and a woman pair up and stay together for years and everyone considers them as good as married; they just haven't gone through the ceremony."

"Maddy, Adam and I were married at the clerk of courts in Virginia City – not in the church. My father wouldn't even attend because it wasn't conducted by a priest."

Maddy was puzzled. "Well, that's still legal and that's all that matters. Since British law rules here, if Adam would die, you'd get everything, but I thought he was putting your name on everything anyway."

"No, you don't understand – I was raised Catholic. There wasn't a Catholic church in Virginia City but Mrs. Hellström, our housekeeper, she taught me about the sanctity of marriage and the reward of children, how a wife should comport herself and it's not as I've been doing - and that's even in a church-endorsed marriage. You see, because of Adam and Eve and their sin, well, every sexual act is filled with desire or lust, but it's forgiven, the sin of lechery, within marriage for the sake of producing children. But we're not having children because of me, my choice, and so that's a sin in and of itself. And I keep sinning more and more and if I don't leave Adam, I'll become lost!"

"Have you explained all that to Adam, about your beliefs?"

"No, I…he would think I'm foolish. I started to tell him, but then he… Oh, Maddy, I married him knowing full well that our union wouldn't be sanctified by the church and I was fine by that because I thought this life would be better. We weren't in love and so I thought that laying with him would be unpleasant, but then, once we were alone in a hotel room and he was so close and so…" Sigrid dropped her head in her hands. "Oh, I've given myself to him so many times and always found pleasure in it – even the first time which is supposed to be a horror! And now I…what am I going to do? I tried to talk to him about the way I feel but he doesn't understand that I've gone against everything that I was raised to believe."

"Oh, Sigrid. I don't know what to tell you except, well, if you want to stay with Adam and believing what you do, well…there's a little church in Barakula. Maybe you two can be married by the pastor there." Maddy smiled. "And Caleb and I can go and stand up for you both!"

"Oh, Maddy." Sigrid smiled at her friend and slipped her arm through hers, leaning her head against her shoulder. "It would be a solution if…I think though I'd just better go pack my things. I wouldn't be surprised if Adam spent the night in a brothel, if Dalby has one."

"It has two. At least it did when I lived there. But Adam seems to love you – very much. Why when I put my horse away, I saw you have a cow, a Jersey cow, no less. Do you know how much they cost?"

"And that's a sign of love?"

"Out here in the bushland, it is."

Maddy left shortly after and Sigrid, once she came in off the porch after seeing Maddy off, looked about the house. It was so very empty. But she wouldn't ponder it. Adam was coming back tomorrow – or so he said but from her experience, his word was unreliable - so she set about packing her clothes. Fortunately, her china dishes were still in the trunk, having not been needed, so other than a few towels – no, she'd only take a few and leave the rest for Adam; she wondered if Nama would still do the washing for Adam. She sighed and then climbed up to the loft to fold her clothes for the long trip ahead.

~ 0 ~

The next day, it was still raining. The rain came in waves, a sudden, heavy downpour for a half hour or so, and then it would ease up for a few hours and the frogs would trill and croak outside until the next heavy wave. Late afternoon, the rain stopped but the sky was still threatening. So, this was rainy season. No wonder Lije had told them to pack waterproofs for their trip.

Sigrid waited until the water in the yard receded and then, hitching up her skirts, she gingerly stepped across the yard to the barn to check on Hera and Pansy and her calf. She was glad Pansy could feed her offspring as it caused less worry but she could hear Pansy mooing. Halfway to the barn, she stopped, afraid to take another step as something moved off to her right. It was a snake leisurely making its way through the muck. And Sigrid froze to the spot as it slithered across the yard, no more than two feet in front of her, and finally disappeared into the surrounding brush. She sighed in relief, and with a little more caution, made it to the barn.

The food troughs were empty and Hera was restless after being in the stall for almost two days and Pansy looked at her with large, dark eyes. Sigrid, using the pitchfork, struggled with it until she finally caught on how to manipulate it. But hay still fell from the tines and she ended up gathering it off the floor with her hands and dropping it in Pansy's food trough.

Hera received oats first and then she'd be fed with some hay, Sigrid decided. Did Pansy eat oats? Sigrid didn't know but gave her two scoopfuls; it couldn't hurt – she hoped. But there were two bales of dried alfalfa as well. Sigrid decided that since the animals were peacefully eating and Pansy didn't need milking, she'd open the barn doors to the corral and the stalls, and Hera could wander at will – Pansy as well. The water troughs inside the barn needed water so she worked the pump handle and using the old, dented pail, and taking multiple trips, she poured water into them for the animals. Then she rested, leaning against a barn post. She realized she had never had so many of God's creatures depending on her to feed and water them.

And Sigrid wondered, could she go through this every morning and then milk the cow? And once Brutus was weaned, it would be another animal to feed and water. Then she would have to fix breakfast and later dinner for Adam. Not to say, bake bread and pick the vegetables and direct Nama in her chores. She was already tired over what little she had done. And could she do all that while carrying a child as Felicity Flynn must have done? Why did women have to suffer through all that? But isn't that what God had meant when he said in Genesis: _In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return._ If she stayed, eventually she would become a part of the earth as would Adam and any of their progeny. It wasn't a comforting thought.

The dishes were washed, the furniture dusted, so Sigrid sat knitting; the mindlessness of the rhythmic movement of the needles calmed her. There was a knock on the door, but she hadn't heard a horse. It must be Nama. Sigrid pulled the bolt and put her hand on the door latch – but stopped. She moved to the window and saw a small Aborigine child, probably one she had seen following Nama the first day, so she opened the door. The child, smiling, raised a skinned and cleaned animal by its long tail. Black flies buzzed about it, a few of them landing on it and some on the boy. Sigrid was stunned for a moment at the sight of the animal but then she realized that it was a skinned bushy tail possum ready for the cookpot. "Wiyanga say for you." He pushed it toward her.

She reached out and feigned joy and gratitude. "Why thank you. You tell…wiyanga thank you for me, okay?"

The child, still smiling, nodded and turned to leave, breaking into a run. "Wait!" Sigrid called. The child stopped and turned. "Just a moment" Sigrid said, putting up one finger. She hurried into the house, dropped the possum into the dry sink, flies following it, and opened the sweet biscuit tin, thinking she'd buy two tins the next time Mr. Naples came by – no, no, she wouldn't be there anymore. She picked up a few and running back out, called the child over.

"For you - as thanks." Sigrid smiled and the child put out his grimy hand for the treat. He bit one and liking the taste, smiled again and then took off running. Sigrid smiled to herself – children were the same everywhere. But how to cook a possum?

Sigrid pondered the odd-looking creature in her sink as she swatted flies with a used dishtowel, and decided she needed to see it as food – not a dead creature. Adam had once said something that was from a play, that nothing is good or bad but thinking makes it so – or something like that. He explained that everything that happened needed interpretation and therefore, one could see an incident as either good or bad – it was all in how one thought of it. She had to change how she thought of this "meat". A stew would be best but when she thought of the way the animal looked when she received it… Except for the chickens which Mrs. Hellström killed by breaking their necks with a snap of her wrist, all the meat Mrs. Hellström cooked came either from the butcher or from one of the homesteaders as payment for shoeing or repairing farming equipment. But never had they received a whole animal like this creature.

But she set about chopping onions – they needed more onions; she'd leave Adam a list of all he would need – and carrots; she had pulled them all from the little garden. Then she browned the onions in bacon grease snapping in the cookpot. In a fry pan, she browned the meat after she rinsed it and chopped it up, salting it as well. She added water to the onions and carrots, and dumped the meat in and put on the lid. Now she had to keep the fire low enough for a simmer.

She was tired and made herself tea and nibbled on a few cookies. And the rain started again and she went to drive the animals back inside the barn.

~ 0 ~

The overcast sky made the evening appear to arrive earlier. About 6:00, the possum stew was ready and Sigrid scooped herself a bowl. Tentatively, she ate a spoonful and was pleasantly surprised. It was tasty and she was rather proud of herself. Tomorrow, she would make a loaf of bread while she waited for her driver to Brisbane. She would make certain Adam found someone but whether the subject would be raised tonight or in the morning, she didn't know.

The evening wore on and she was sitting and reading the Bible, telling herself Adam would be home when he was home and then chastising herself for letting her mind wander while reading God's word, when she heard horses and men's voices in the yard – one was Adam's and the other was Caleb's, but they were low as in secret conversation. She placed the Bible on the mantle and opened the front door, stepping out. It had stopped raining hours ago, the frogs chirruping loudly. Adam and Caleb both had their waterproof ponchos rolled up and stuck behind their saddles; they hadn't taken bed rolls since they would be staying overnight in Dalby.

Adam clumsily dismounted, grabbing the saddle to help himself stand upright. Sigrid thought he was drunk. But there was something about his face and the way he looked at her…

"What's wrong?" Sigrid stepped closer.

"Nothing – I have a headache, that's all. Leave me tend to my horse."

"I'll take care of the horse," Caleb said. "You go lie down."

"I can take care of my own goddamn horse," Adam said. He pulled himself up tall again, grabbing Zeus' reins, and swaying on his feet, wended toward the barn. Caleb and Sigrid watched him.

"Sigrid, there's something's more wrong with him than just a headache. He looks feverish to me and he's been keeping his distance as if he thinks he's contagious or something."

"Has he been this way the whole time?" Sigrid glanced at the open barn door. The hanging lantern had been lit.

"No. It started about four hours ago. We were making good time until then. We left earlier than we'd planned because there's some sort of outbreak in Dalby. It was just that the bank took so goddamn long to finish the paperwork yesterday. I waited in a saloon for Adam – had four beers and two trips to the… well, anyway, Adam said he felt they didn't believed he had any money at all – we haven't shaved in a few days and the way we look…anyway, he said that the banker apologized as well for his own slowness, said he had a bad headache. We left Dalby early, like I said – about 3:00 this morning – but then, about four hours ago, he starting acting strange, looking strange, slowed down a bit and wasn't really listening. It was like he was focused just on staying upright. I suggested we rest but – we had stopped for a bit at lunch but he said he didn't have much appetite – he just laughed it off. Finally, the horses were down to a walk and he was gripping the saddle horn as if he'd topple over any moment."

"What type of outbreak?" Sigrid carefully watched Caleb's face, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Not sure. The man in the deed office said his boy was really sick and people were falling out of their chairs, sick. When we checked out this morning, the desk clerk said we weren't to leave because according to the constable, Dalby was being quarantined and he'd been told to keep all the guests there. But Adam said he had to get back home; told me you'd think he hadn't come home out of spite. So, Adam gave the clerk some money – bribed him - and we hurried out before anyone could stop us and keep us there, but now I'm beginning it think it would've been better for Adam if we had.

"Sigrid, I'm sleeping in our barn tonight – I don't want to get close to Madrigal until I'm sure I'm not…well, no need to explain." He glanced at the barn again and then back at Sigrid. "Be careful. It may be just a headache like he says but, well, watch him and don't get too close. Can't have you both come down with something." Then he rode on down the path leading to the Morgan's house.

Sigrid walked slowly to the barn but as she was closer, she felt rising fear and started running. Adam was sitting on the hay strewn floor, his hat next to him. Sigrid stopped and then walked closer. His lips were blanched and there were gray circles under his eyes.

"Stay away, Sigrid. Please."

"It's more than a headache, isn't it?"

"I don't know. But…just let me be." He pulled himself up and held desperately on to the stall railing. "I have to feed and water Zeus." The horse was snuffling through his empty feed trough. "I should brush him, rub him down…maybe in the morning. I was up early and…" He gripped the top of the nearest support post.

"I'll tend to Zeus, Adam. You go inside. I made possum stew. If you're hungry, I'll serve you a bowl."

Adam offered a weak smile and chuckled. "Possum stew, huh? Where'd you find a possum?"

"Nama gave it to me, skinned and cleaned. It's not bad as a stew."

He chuckled again. "Sigrid, just toss some blankets on the floor and I'll sleep here."

"Don't be foolish. Go in the house and to bed. You need to sleep inside. It's damp and chilly in here at night. The water's seeped in the entrance and it'll probably rain more. Just go inside. Please, Adam."

He nodded and summoning his strength, walked to the house. Sigrid watched him, hoping he wouldn't slip in the mud and fall. Once he reached the porch, he hugged a post as if walking the short distance had exhausted him. Then he released the post with one hand, reached out with the other, and staggered through the open door.

Sigrid quickly fed and watered Zeus, tossing scoops of oats in his trough and throwing in some clean hay; they needed more hay. Her mind ran quickly as she worked; she could stake them out and the horse could graze all day. Then a few scoops of oats should do them well enough. And cow fodder. She would look about to see what she could fid that cows might like other than using the alfalfa. There was a book on animal husbandry that was stacked on the floor beside the trunk Adam had discovered. She would read about cows and what they ate. It wouldn't do to lose any of the animals. And before she went back to the house, she looked about the barn. She tossed Adam's saddlebags over her shoulder – they were surprisingly heavy. She also pulled Adam's rifle from the scabbard and carried it in her arms like a child across the muddy yard to the house.

The door was still wide open and she heard a mosquito whining in her ears. She waved it aside and walking in, she no more closed than the door than she saw Adam at the bottom of the laddered steps. She propped the rifle against the wall, slid the saddle bags off her shoulder, and went to him.

"Adam," Sigrid knelt down beside him. Sweat ran from his temples down his cheeks and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. His shirt was soaked, making blotches under his arms and across his stomach.

He chuckled as if he found the whole thing amusing. "I can't climb up, Sigrid. I…my legs collapsed under me. Would you just, please, put a blanket on the settee? I'll lie there."

"Of course." She hurried to the trunk and pulled out two blankets and quickly spread one out on the settee. "Once you're on the settee…can I help you up?"

"No. I'll be all right. Just step away…" Sigrid backed off and Adam, pulled himself up and with great effort, managed to reach the settee where he collapsed, one leg hanging over the side. He closed his eyes and licked his lips; his mouth was dry and his throat was raw. "Sigrid, I think it's bad, really bad. Go to the Morgan's and stay there. Please."

She didn't answer, just lifted his leg off the floor and onto the couch. It amazed her that his leg was so heavy. She worked pulling off his boots and then worked on his trouser buttons, attempting to pull them down and off.

"Sigrid," Adam said, eyes still closed and weakly smiling, "are you trying to have your way with me?"

"Please, Adam. Can't you help me? Roll to one side a bit. I can't get these off." He did as she asked, rolling first to one side and then the other so she could work off his trousers. But the action had exhausted him and when, with shaking fingers she unbuttoned his shirt, he was too exhausted to assist in pulling out his arms. She considered cutting the shirt off him but there was no wound so she let it be. If only it had been a wound; that seemed a far easier thing to deal with out here. Adam just looked up at her, his face gray.

"Listen to me," Adam said. He reached out to grab her arm but thinking better, dropped his hand. "In my saddlebags is the land deed for this place. Also, the silver mine – I've made you the ¼ partner as I promised. No matter what happens, you have half claim on this property. Put the papers in a safe place. If I die…"

"You're not going to die. Why do you talk that way!" Sigrid wanted to throw herself on his chest and cry.

"Listen to me!" He had expended too much energy and closed his eyes. "Please, do as I ask. It's in your best interest. And would you get me some water, please? A nice big, glass. I'm really thirsty."

Sigrid rushed to the kitchen and pumped a glass of water and she realized how badly she was shaking. Adam raised himself on his elbows and drank, some spilling on his chest, while she held the glass. Then he fell back down onto the cushions.

She placed the other blanket over him and Adam lay, catching his breath. Sigrid stood up and looked to see what else she could do. Nothing. She dropped into the rocking chair, limp. Just undressing him had exhausted her. The thought of escaping and running to the Morgan's flitted through her head, but she brushed it aside; Adam needed her and she would stay.


	22. Chapter 22

**Twenty-two**

Sigrid brought two pillows down from the loft, placing one on the blanket she had spread on the floor for herself and one for Adam. Although he tried to assist, Sigrid lifted Adam's head to slide the pillow underneath. But his head seemed overly heavy and she struggled to place the pillow properly. He mumbled his thanks as his eyes became heavy and soon, the pill she had given him took effect.

Sigrid had remembered the laudanum pills in the medicine case gifted by Dr. Beaumont, and offered Adam one; it would help with his headache, she said. He took it and she was grateful. It had been awful for her to see him in such pain and she felt helpless until she thought of them.

Adam had lain on the settee, tossing about and pressing his palms against his head. "Oh, God," he said through gritted teeth, "it feels like someone's trying to shatter my skull with a sledgehammer!"

"Please, Adam…would you like a laudanum pill? I have them still."

"Yes," he said in a strangled voice. She brought the bottle and poured one onto her palm. Then, struggling to sit up, Adam let her put one on his tongue and he swallowed it. He barely tasted its bitterness and tried to sip the water Sigrid held to his lips, but he couldn't. His head and shoulders dropped back onto the settee.

And after placing the pillow beneath his head and waiting for the laudanum to take effect, Adam seemed to lack any awareness of what Sigrid was doing to try to make him more comfortable. His skin was hot and flushed. She wiped his face and neck with a cool, wet cloth and then, wetting it anew, she lay it across his forehead. She sat and watched him for a while longer and then lay down on the blanket by the settee and remembering how Jimmy, the young Aborigine boy, would wrap himself in his blanket, Sigrid did as well. She pictured spiders or other horrid, poisonous insects crawling across the floor during the night and hoped wrapping herself this way would protect her. She closed her eyes and was surprised when again, she opened them, she saw dawn through the kitchen window. Sigrid hadn't been aware of falling asleep; she must have been exhausted and quickly sat up to look at Adam. He had moved some during the night and the cloth had long fallen off his fevered forehead. He lay breathing shallowly and his open shirt was soaked with sweat as well as the pillow case under his head and the blanket upon which he lay.

Sigrid fetched the new tin pail for Pansy. It served to hold the cool water with which she laved Adam's face and chest. She bent over him and wiped him down all the way to his ankles. He would mumble something incomprehensible on occasion, roll his head and open his eyes but it was almost as if he didn't see her. For a good fifteen minutes she tried to cool him down, leaving the blanket off so the morning air, evaporating the water, would cool him. But he began to shiver so she covered him up again but he still lay shivering so badly his teeth clicked together. She put her blanket over him as well but his body still went into convulsive shivers.

"Oh, Adam," she said piteously. "I don't know what else to do. Tell me what you need! Please!" But he just looked up at her, saying nothing. Finally, he became still and closed his eyes and Sigrid was weak with relief. At least he'd rest a bit now.

After making herself coffee, Sigrid sat at the table to drink and pondered what to do. She had never nursed anyone and wasn't sure how to tend illnesses such as this. But there had been the measles outbreak when she was just a young girl and she remembered how Mrs. Hellström kept her cool with cold compresses and how she scooped up the sparkling-clean snow to place in Sigrid's parched mouth. Sigrid wished it snowed in Australia, she could use it to cool Adam's fever – but although it was winter, the weather was summer – everything was turned upside down over here.

The snow in her mouth – its slow melting was easy to swallow and cooled her at the same time. And Adam probably needed water as he had been sweating. But sweating, she had heard, was good for some illnesses. What was that old saying? Starve a fever, feed a cold – no, something else about sweating. Sweating out a fever allowed the body to rid itself of poisons, toxins; that was the body's way. Wasn't it? But not if he became weak and dehydrated. Already his lips seemed ready to crack and split. But how would she get Adam to drink? Perhaps if she put one arm about his shoulders…no, she wasn't that strong. But she would try.

Filling a coffee cup with water, she kneeled by the settee and called his name. "Adam, I have some water for you. Please try to drink some." She slipped an arm about his shoulders and struggling, lifted him slightly, and his head fell against her breasts; his shirt was damp and the hair at the nape of his neck, wet. She put the cup at his parched lips and turned it up, not enough to choke him but enough to allow him to drink. He swallowed small amounts and then, as if it was too much effort, his head fell back and he mumbled something she couldn't comprehend. She slid her arm out from behind him and sat beside the settee, limp and dejected. Adam was going to die before her eyes and she was helpless to prevent it. Even the medicine case Dr. Beaumont gave her was set up to tend to wounds and injuries, not something like this. And if she caught whatever illness Adam had, they would both die and Caleb Morgan would have to set the disease-infested house on fire with their bodies still inside. This was how their grand adventure would end – in ashes - and Sigrid wept even more.

She was disturbed in her misery by a knock at the door and Sigrid quickly wiped away the beginnings of tears. She hadn't heard anyone ride up so she looked out the window. It was Nama with Taree slung across her shoulders in the new shawl. Sigrid opened the door slightly, just enough to speak. "Nama, my husband is ill, very ill. Please," she felt her throat choke out the words, "take Taree and leave." Tears started down her face. "My husband…I don't want you or your baby to catch what he has. Please understand. Your mother will tell you when to return." and she closed the door on the stunned young woman. Sigrid dropped into the rocking chair and resting her head on the back, gently rocked and listened to the clock tick for how long, she didn't know.

Adam groaned and moved his head and Sigrid hurried to his side, kneeling beside him and taking his hand. "Adam? Adam? Do you want something?" But he didn't reply, just moved his head again and then lay still, his chest moving slightly up and down. She looked at the hand she held, so strong and tan, rough from his work. That was what was so odd seeing him with his shirt open. Although his chest was matted with coarse, black hair, specked with gray, the skin underneath was not as dark and swarthy as the skin on his lower arms or neck, and below his belt, he was vulnerably white. But now, all his skin took on a pale, deathly sheen. She lay her forehead against his hand, feeling hopeless.

She finally rose. She looked about the room and her eyes fell on the saddlebags; she should empty them. The papers were inside and she should put them with the money in the wood casket in the bottom cupboard. She lifted up the weighty saddlebags and put them on the table, opening one side. She saw a pistol and gently pulled it out, sitting it on the mantle by the small gun Adam had given her. In the same side were some clothes – a worn shirt and socks as well as a rolled pair of trousers. She put them in the makeshift hamper.

Going back to the other saddlebag, she found the fat, long envelope which contained the paperwork. She placed it on the table and then took out food that Adam must have purchased in Dalby for the return trip and a box of matches. And a small elegantly-shaped bottle. She pulled it out. It was a bottle of perfume. She pulled out the stopper and the air filled with the scent of tuberoses and jasmine. He had thought of her.

It was almost noon. Sigrid wasn't hungry but felt she should eat something as her empty stomach pained her. The pot of possum stew still sat on the stove and Sigrid lifted the lid. She wrinkled her nose; it didn't smell appetizing anymore and the fat had risen and congealed on the top. Although she hated tossing out food, she knew she wouldn't be able to eat anymore – not now. And Nama had taken such care to skin and clean the animal. But he stew was nauseous, so she carried it outside and walking a distance from the house, dumped it on the ground. Let the insects and whatever else eat her first try at possum stew.

Walking back with the intent of pumping water into the greasy stew pot, she saw Caleb Morgan ride into the yard and dismount.

"Caleb!"

He turned to the voice. "Oh, Sigrid. Glad to see you're all right. You are, aren't you?" She looked tired and worn.

"Yes, I'm just tried." She offered a smile.

"How's Adam?" He began to walk toward her.

"Keep some distance between us," Sigrid said. "I'm all right so far but I don't know…" Her voice broke and Caleb approached. "No, please, Caleb. I'm just feeling sorry for myself, sorry for Adam and so very sorry I know nothing about tending the ill. But I'm trying my best."

"Adam came down with what he did within one day – there's no one sick at the mine so he must have caught what's going about Dalby - so I would say that if you're still well, you may stay well. At least I hope so. Tell me, what can we do for you, Sigrid? Is there anything we can do for Adam?"

"No, nothing, but I thank you for offering. Just check back in another two or three days to see if we're still alive– that's all." She smiled wanly and realized that was something Adam might say.

"I'll be back sooner than two days – I'll be here tomorrow morning. Take care of yourself, Sigrid. Adam may need tending but you also need to tend to yourself." In the light of afternoon, he saw how very thin she had become.

"Oh, wait," Sigrid said. "If I could ask you for one thing…"

"Of course. Anything." Caleb waited.

"Would you stake out Pansy and the horses for me? I thought they could graze and then I wouldn't have to feed them so many oats and hay – we're going to be out of hay in a while and as for cow fodder, I hate to use up all the alfalfa since it's difficult to get…"

Caleb smiled. "You tend to the bull in the house and I'll tend to the cow and horses in the barn. And I'll bring some hay over tomorrow."

"Thank you," and Sigrid smiled as she walked to the house while Caleb went to the barn.

After checking on Adam who by turns, sweat or shivered, she went to make bread. It would take her mind off her worries – and she was worried – about them both. She kept focused on any symptoms she might display. Would she have the same as Adam had? First a headache and then feeling enervated? She kneaded the bread dough even harder and afterwards, while it rose in the kitchen, Sigrid wiped Adam down with cool water.

Finally, the bread was baked and she hoped Adam would smell it and open his eyes and ask for some. But he didn't and another night passed with her sleeping on the floor by the settee. But that night, she slept fitfully and woke once thinking Adam had called her name. But he hadn't. Occasionally he would mumble words with great force and move his head back and forth on the sweat-soaked pillow. When he did, Sigrid would talk gently to him as she wiped his face and chest with the wet cloth. It seemed to calm him and he would settle back into a restless sleep.

It wasn't yet light when Sigrid woke, and after checking Adam who was lying quietly, she dragged herself into the kitchen to make coffee. She lit the lamp and saw her ghostly reflection in the window glass; she was appalled at how she looked. Just a few months ago she had round cheeks and full breasts but now she looked gaunt and bloodless, as if her bones were marrowless. She readied the coffee pot and sliced some bread – she would force herself to down two slices. It would be nice to have butter but last night when she had stabled the horses and Pansy, she had been thankful that Brutus was still eager to get his fill so she didn't need to milk Pansy; it was just too much. And as tired as she was, it seemed even breathing was too much effort.

Standing at the kitchen window and watching dawn break, she ate her slices of bread and drank her coffee. Her father always said that matters were worse at night when malevolence was about, but the rising sun dissolved evil and brought hope to the day. So, Sigrid tried to change her thinking to be encouraging – as Adam had said, nothing is good nor bad but thinking makes it so. At least she wasn't ill, not yet. And Adam was still alive. Why though, was it her lot to watch him suffer so? Was it to punish her for her sin of concupiscence? No, God wouldn't use Adam, putting him through this just to punish her. People should be punished for their own sins by taking suffering upon themselves. Perhaps it was to open her heart, to see him as someone who could be hurt. Or perhaps it was just because he sat too close to someone who was already ill. After all, she thought, that's what Adam would say. To him, everything was a natural occurrence.

She walked out and stood by the couch, looking down at him. Adam's eyes were sunken and his ribs were more evident. It seemed as if the fever was consuming him from the inside out. Sigrid sank to her knees beside the settee, and bowed her head in prayer, dropping her forehead on her hands. She would pray to the Virgin Mary; Holy Mother would understand Sigrid's heart and the pain she felt watching Adam suffer so as she had watched her blessed son suffer on the cross. Under her breath, Sigrid importuned the Virgin Mary to intercede and pray for Adam's recovery and his return to health. And although she had forgotten most of the prayers the housekeeper had taught her while Sigrid, a small child sitting on a stool, watched her cook, she repeated what she could remember, but her mind jumped about like the bushy tailed possums in the trees. She ended up repeating the prayer that Adam would soon recover; it couldn't be said enough times.

Standing up and leaning down, Sigrid pushed Adam's hair off his forehead. He didn't seem as hot, did he? She wasn't sure, but his skin was still ashen and clammy. "Adam?" She gently shook his shoulder but he didn't respond. She stood up and placed her hands on the small of her back, stretching backwards. She would tend the stock and then come back and wipe him with a cool cloth.

In the barn were three extra bales of hay and corn fodder for Pansy; Caleb must have come by either very early or very late. She wondered if he had knocked or even come in. She had forgotten to lock the door so it was possible he had seen them sleeping. When she finished the chores and let the horses out into the corral and led Pansy to the swath of green grass a few yards from the house, she walked slowly back to the house. And then she saw, by the door, a package wrapped in brown paper. She picked it up and unwrapped it. It was one of Maddy's seed cakes, Sigrid smiled and then wanted to cry; she wasn't as alone as she thought.

She sighed, thinking she'd have some as a late breakfast. But she would need some vegetables, some roughage for dinner; all she had eaten was bread. Maybe, once Adam was better, she could take the buckboard to Barakula, after asking directions, of course. Perhaps Maddy would go along. She would buy enough produce to last for at least two weeks. Hopefully, she could plant some vegetables that grew during the rainy season. But if Adam died, if she ended up alone, she wouldn't stay there; she knew that. Sigrid decided she would sell their shares in the mine to either Caleb or whomever he chose. The house as well.

Inside, Sigrid placed the seed cake on the table and sat down; she was weary and frustrated. She didn't know what to do to help Adam. But she could at least cool his forehead again. Pulling a chair up beside the settee, she dipped the cloth in the bucket, wrung it and then wiped his face and throat, then moved down to his chest.

'Sigrid?"

She looked at Adam's face, stunned. His eyes were open and he looked at her. "Oh, Adam! Oh, thank the Holy Mother of God! Oh, Adam!" She threw herself on his chest and he placed one hand on her hair. She burst into tears.

"Please tell me you aren't crying because I'm still alive."

Sitting up, she smiled and he offered a weak smile in return. "It's because I'm so very happy you're better." She grabbed his hand and kissed it, then pressed it to her breast, tears still running down her cheeks.

"Don't cry, Sigrid." He reached up and touched her cheek." How long have I been lying here?"

"About three days."

"Three days, huh? No wonder I'm so thirsty. And also, can you help me on with my trousers – I have to visit the outhouse?"

At that, she laughed, happy to be of some use. "Yes, I can help you with that."

~ 0 ~

Adam wanted coffee so he dropped into a chair at the table and waited while Sigrid made a fresh pot and stirred a spoonful of brown sugar in the mug. Then she offered him bread and seed cake.

"No more possum stew?" he asked, smiling as he took his coffee mug. His hands shook and he tried to disguise it by clasping the mug with both hands.

"No – I had to toss out the leftovers. It didn't keep well."

"That's too bad - I was looking forward to it." He took a sip. "Sweet. Brown sugar?"

"Yes, I bought it from Mr. Naples." Adam looking confused. "The peddler who comes around. We needed sugar and the white sugar, well, it costs too much. Here, have some seedcake; Maddy made it." She pushed the plate of slices closer to him and watched him eat, breaking off pieces. Suddenly, calm fell over her as if the world was righting itself. Although there were still dark circles under his eyes and his hands were shaky, his chest sunken, Adam was talking and joking as he always had.

Sigrid told him about Mr. Naples and all she had bought and he listened, smiling and nodding his approval. Then they sat in silence until Adam said he couldn't eat anymore and pushed the plate away.

"Is there anything else you would like?"

"Yes. A bath. I can smell myself – I don't know how you stood me." Sigrid smiled indulgently.

"I smell so bad myself, I guess I didn't notice."

And then Adam became serious. "Is Caleb well?"

"Oh, yes, thank God for that. He stopped by and brought the extra hay and fodder for Pansy because I mentioned we'd need more, and then there was Maddy's seed cake. He also took care of the animals yesterday morning before he went to the mine. This morning, I let the horses out in the corral and staked Pansy out in that grassy field. There aren't bears out here, are there?" Suddenly she wondered about how safe Pansy was from predators. And Brutus.

"No, no bears. I need to put up some fences though to keep Pansy from wandering. You're getting to be quite the lady farmer, aren't you?" She dropped her eyes. Was he going to ask her when she was leaving? But he rose from his chair, a bit unsteadily. "Bring me out a towel, will you? And some clean clothes."

Sigrid rose and held onto Adam, supporting him until he became steady on his feet. "Maybe you should wait until you're stronger, Adam. Today's the first day you don't have fever – at least not that I can tell. But you're far from well. Please – if you relapse…"

"Please, Sigrid, I'm just so… Besides, if I wash now and then relapse and die, you won't have to wash the corpse for burial."

"That's not funny, Adam." Sigrid was stony-faced.

"I'm sorry, I suppose it wasn't. But I want to wash all that travel dust and sweat off me; I think I'll feel better. A bath can wash away all sorts of ills." Together, they walked slowly out and to the washhouse. Sigrid left him there to undress and headed back to the house. The blankets – they needed washing. Should she burn them? She chided herself; it hadn't been the plague or a lice infestation, but she would wash the blankets herself instead of having Nama do it. Long ago, she had heard about the Indians and measles, how an outbreak from a passing wagon train had decimated a tribe of nearby Paiutes. And then there was small pox and venereal diseases. It wasn't bullets that would destroy the Indians but white man diseases, her father had said, and she didn't want the nearby Aborigines to die off due to her.

Sigrid went to the linens trunk and pulled out a clean towel. Then upstairs to the loft; she needed to find clean clothes. She opened a drawer and pulled out work trousers and a clean shirt. She hesitated over the long underwear. It seemed that now that they were here, Adam had eschewed them, preferring to go without due to the heat and humidity; at least back in Nevada, it was drier and he didn't feel like a baby sitting in a wet nappy, he had said. He commented that now, long-johns were being made knee-length and were probably cooler. Sigrid wished she had a mail-order catalogue – she'd order him at least a dozen pairs. Her husband was persnickety about his personal cleanliness, something he said Inger, Hoss' mother, had inculcated him into practicing so it was no surprise Adam longed for a bath. She needed one herself.

As Sigrid walked inside the house, she wondered about mail and thought of writing her father and Mrs. Hellström; she had promised. Adam needed to write his father and brothers. She was sure he was probably as worried as her father. Her mind ran in circles as she was so tired, she couldn't focus on the task at hand. Sigrid chastised herself; she was becoming as absent-minded as old man Jorgensøn who they took to church back home; he would talk about so many different things – jumping from one subject to another – that her father joked he needed a lasso to toss about the man's thoughts and keep them from escaping.

With her bundle which included a new bar of the lavender soap, she walked to the washhouse; the ground had dried for the time but dark clouds were gathering off in the distance. Adam was sitting naked on the bench, his elbows on his spread knees, his head dropped. He looked up at her, smiling weakly. "I think undressing just about wore me out. I need to rest a little before I try to heat any water."

"Don't be foolish." Sigrid placed the towel, soap, and clean clothes on the shelf beside a scrub brush, and gathering some of the wood that had been piled outside, she made a fire under the wash pot half filled with water. Adam watched her closely. Sigrid went about her chore uncomplainingly. It may have been because he was still weak and needed help, but Adam noticed an edge about her now; she seemed as keen as the collar bone that jutted out from the open neck of her dress.

Once the water was warm, Adam thanked her, but Sigrid said for him to just sit, and with the cup of water, she began to douse him. As the water ran over him, Adam felt a release of a sort – as if his sins were being washed away and sobs welled up inside him, but he wouldn't let them escape. But as Sigrid used the soap and scrub brush on his back, Adams smiled wryly as the pleasant scent of lavender rose about him.

"I'm going to smell like a French whore," he said with a small laugh.

She gently pulled his hair in reprimand as she washed his scalp, his shoulders, and then kneeled before him to wash his feet. He protested and told her it wasn't necessary – she should get up. He'd wash his feet himself.

"It makes no sense to have a bath and not wash your feet and if you bend over to wash them, you may topple over onto the stones." So, Adam sat in silence while she tended to him.

It was odd, she thought, but she had never really looked at his feet. They were long and narrow – well-formed, elegant feet. No wonder he danced so well, Sigrid thought. She lifted each foot up to scrub the soles, then moved her hands over the ankle and up to the knee of each leg.

Then she stood up. "I think you should wash yourself…" She motioned to his lap. "There."

Adam chuckled. "Whatever you say – but I've been on the poorly side and couldn't do anything should I want."

Sigrid huffed and handed him the bar of soap with the warning that the water was getting hot; he didn't want to scald himself. She moved behind him and when he finished washing, she dried his back. He had put down the cup after he rinsed himself, dropping the bar of soap inside.

"I feel weak as a babe," Adam said. So, while he sat, Sigrid dried his hair and arms and worked her way down his legs.

"There!" she said, standing up. "You're clean and dry! Now, let's get you dressed and back to the house."

Adam smiled. "You're quite the woman, Sigrid." Sigrid felt she didn't deserve his gratitude, not after the way she had behaved before he left; did he remember? She picked up the clean shirt and Adam reached out, touching her arm. "Thank you for what you did – taking care of me, bathing me. I mean that. I feel that whatever it is that brought us together, fate, coincidence, I hold the better hand."

"I'm your wife. What else would I do?" And then she went about helping him dress as she would a child, Adam's eyes following her every move.


	23. Chapter 23

**This is the longest story I have ever written and I want to thank those of you who have accompanied me along the way. I'm glad if it brought pleasure to anyone. Then it was worth all the hours I put into this.**

**Twenty-three**

Adam wanted Sigrid to sit with him – they needed to talk, he said - but she told him she didn't have time. She needed to tend to the chickens and wanted to weed the garden in case it rained in the late afternoon as it had been doing. They needed a vegetable garden – the carrots either were all gone or nearly gone. And she discovered that cabbages were growing and what looked like squash and hopefully, onions. She couldn't allow them to wither away – they were needed. And then there were the blankets to be washed and the pillow cases – there were things needing to be done.

"But do they have to be done now?" It humbled Adam to be so weak he couldn't manage anything about the place and help her, and Sigrid was so obviously tired and yet, still working. She seemed driven by something he didn't understand. And he wanted to talk about what had happened between them before he had left for Dalby; it had haunted him the whole trip.

"Yes, they do have to be done now. I want to hang the blankets out before it rains. And I forgot to buy clothes pins from Mr. Naples when he was here so they'll have to dry doubled-over on the line and that takes a while. I really need to get to them before it rains again."

"But, Sigrid…listen to me...just a few minutes…"

Sigrid felt desperate to escape him. "Lie down and rest, Adam. The sooner I start, the sooner I can finish. I'll fix you something to eat after I'm through." She gathered up the blankets and walked out the door, not responding as Adam called after her.

Adam sat in the oversized, upholstered chair that had more than likely been Mark Flynn's. He stretched his long legs out onto the ottoman. It was covered in a multi-colored stripe and was set close to the fireplace, probably to warm the feet during the cold weather, Adam thought. His mind traveled back to the Ponderosa and his favorite blue chair by the fireplace where he would often sit and read or try out new tunes on his guitar. Now, the instrument stood ignored in a corner, patiently waiting for his arms to caress it and touch the strings to make it sing – a bit like Sigrid herself – Adam thought, making him smile as once, when they lay together, their bodies still basking in their pleasure, Sigrid had whispered that he had magnificent hands that drew such exquisite feelings from her.

He scratched his throat; it itched from the many days' growth. He needed to shave. Where was his shaving kit? Had he packed it for the trip? Yes. He rose and went over to the saddlebags on the floor. He kneeled and saw one side was empty; good, Sigrid found the papers. The other side was almost empty, his razor and shaving soap at the bottom wrapped in a thick cloth. The perfume – Sigrid must have found it. And he hadn't bought the things on her list; he had been too ill and too desperate to get home. Had she liked the perfume? The woman in the shop had allowed him to smell quite a few but the one he chose was light and airy and smelled like a spring day full of blooming flowers. It would serve as a substitute for a flower garden until he could plant one for Sigrid.

Adam stood up and quickly became lightheaded. He managed to make it back to the chair and sat down, his heart thumping. He had done too much. Sigrid had been right. If he were still on the Ponderosa, Hop Sing would be fussing about him like an annoying gadfly, proffering some bitter herbal tea and chicken broth and chastising him worse than any wife could. "You eat, Mistah Adam. Not eat, not get betta!" Adam smiled at the thought of the small, bandy-legged, Chinese man who took the Cartwrights' ills as his own. And what was his family doing while he sat there alone in his own house? Adam tried to calculate the time difference but his head was too muddled. He pictured the great room, the large, low table before the fireplace with a bowl of ruddy apples waiting for a hand to take one. And his father's large leather chair – "Pa's chair." That's what he and Hoss and Joe called it when they were young. "Don't sit in Pa's chair – he'll wanta sit there when he comes in." And there was the settee that Marie bought. And memories of her and his father rushed back.

"Oh, Ben, you don't love me at all!" Marie threw herself down on the settee amid sobs.

Hoss, his eyes big, ran out of the house to hide in the hayloft. Arguing and Marie's histrionics always upset Hoss and he would seek out a quiet place amid the animals, usually taking the calico barn cat up the ladder with him where he would sit, hugging her and stroking her fur. Many a time Adam had found Hoss up there hiding in the hay and cajoled him down with the promise that everything was all right now; Pa and Marie had made up.

But Marie's rants and her tantrums only enraged Adam. How could his father put up with such behavior? He never allowed his sons to act in such a manner – he would have dragged them out to the barn by their ears and tanned their hides. "Now you have something to cry about!"

But Marie. Adam knew why she did what she did – because she could and because she used her tears as weapons against his father. His father was impotent in the face of Marie's angry words accusing him of indifference to her. Indifference. She knew better. He would have overturned heaven to make her happy.

Was that why Sigrid's tears made him all the more set in his path? Adam considered his reactions. He wouldn't bow to Sigrid's weapons – he couldn't. Although his heart fell whenever Sigrid shed a single tear through his fault, he wouldn't roll over and expose his soft belly like a submissive dog. No. He and Sigrid would be on equal footing and she needed to stop using her wiles to control him – if that was what she was doing.

He leaned back – the chair was as soft as a mother's arms - and closed his eyes. Images from his illness floated behind his eyes – Sigrid's worried face, her cool hands on his cheeks and forehead, the way she spoke to him as she laved his burning skin. And she had held him with his head cushioned against her breast as she gave him water. He recalled trying to talk to her, to tell her many things before it was too late, but his tongue had seemed thick in his mouth.

Sigrid would be better off returning home where her life would be easier. Adam knew that, but he didn't think he could manage without her. And he didn't mean the cooking or the washing or warming his bed – he meant _her_, having her to talk to, to sit with him while she knitted or sewed, and discuss matters. But there was her valise, packed and waiting by the door. If she wanted to leave, he wouldn't stop her. After all, how could he?

~ 0 ~

The chickens scurried after the feed she tossed about. Then she entered the coop and felt through the nests for any eggs. She reprimanded herself for forgetting the basket, so she lifted her skirt and placed the eggs inside the make-shift hollow. Going in through the kitchen, she placed the eggs in the bowl.

"Sigrid?" Adam called; he took his bare feet off the ottoman, leaning forward. His voice lacked its strong resonance. He had recalled a memory or was it a waking dream, of Sigrid praying beside him, talking to him and holding his hand. "Is that you?"

"I just brought in some eggs. I was thinking, you need to get yourself a rooster, don't you, for making more chickens?" She stepped out into the parlor.

Adam smiled. "Yes, yes you do. I'll ask around and if I feel better tomorrow, I'll kill a chicken and clean it. You can make chicken and dumplings. How's that?"

"That would be fine," Her heart was pounding. He hadn't noticed that she had said, "_you_ need to get yourself a rooster".

"Sigrid, before you go back out – I saw you've packed…"

She cut him off. "Please, can we discuss this later? I need to do the gardening before it rains."

"But you can stay for just a moment. This is important."

"No, I can't. Really…" She hurried back out the kitchen door which was always difficult to shut – she had to pull it up by the handle and then push against it. Adam said the door wasn't correctly hung and he'd correct it; "It'll help keep the ants out better when it's flush."

Even with the little work she and Nama had done, the vegetable garden was looking better and the rain appeared to have caused more growth from plants that had lain dormant in the soil. Although she used the trowel, Sigrid noted her fingernails were becoming dirty. She'd have to scrub them as well as the cuticles; she couldn't cook and handle food with grimy fingernails. Some gloves were made just for gardening, rubber poured on the palms and fingers as if someone had placed their hands in a pool of vulcanized rubber; Mrs. Hellström had a pair. Perhaps Mr. Naples or the general store in Barakula carried them. No, Sigrid told herself, she mustn't make plans for the future yet as she didn't know what it held; the future was always a gamble and she didn't want to bet her heart.

In the washhouse, she dumped the hot water from Adam's bath and burned herself on the lip of the pot, raising a blister on her hand. "I'm being a fool," she told herself. "I can't avoid Adam forever." But she boiled more water in the large pot and tossed in the blankets, one at a time. There was no need for soap considering she was boiling them. With the paddle, she stirred them about and then pulled up each one, straining and struggling under the ponderous weight of each soaking, steaming blanket and although she tried, she couldn't help but be splashed with drops of boiling hot water. She had to sit on the bench to rest between lifting each one and the steaming pile of blankets only added to the heat. Her clothes were sticking to her. Then she heard the rumbling of thunder as the rain approached. No hanging out the blankets now. She felt relieved with the respite, but sagged a bit as she sat. Her mind ran in circles.

Why did Adam want her to sit with him? To talk about dividing the property so she could sell her share? She could see him with his paper and pencil making columns and coldly putting down what was hers and what was his and the prices. Would he offer to buy her out? Perhaps he wanted to tell her he had found her a driver in Dalby and on what day she should be ready. She dropped her head in her hands as she sat on the bench. She didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to hear what he might say. There was a split of lightning followed by booming thunder that made her jump. And suddenly, it was as if the heavens cracked open like an egg, and the rain poured down in force. She stood in the doorway of the washhouse and could barely see the house through the curtain of rain. But the air was cooler, cleaner, and she stepped out, closing her eyes and let the rain wash away her misery. Lightning shattered the air again but she didn't care. She didn't care at all as the cooling water surrounded her, caressing her.

"Sigrid? Sigrid? Are you out there?" Adam's voice came to her through the rain.

She couldn't see him. "I'm coming," she answered and made her way to the house where Adam stood on the porch, supporting himself with one hand holding the door frame.

"I was going to come get you – you're soaked to the skin."

"I'm fine. The rain saved me from taking a bath. Just let me dry off." She passed him and pulled another towel out of the chest. There were only two more. Mrs. Hellström had sat and stitched many towels for her chest, even embroidering flowers on the end of each one. "A bride should bring many good towels with her when she marries – good strong towels made out of this cloth that is so good." Perhaps Mr. Naples carried towels. She'd have to ask him - if she stayed.

After her change of dresses, Sigrid made pancakes and bacon. Adam wasn't hungry, he said when she asked about dinner, but when Sigrid offered pancakes, his eyes lit up like a child who is offered a gumdrop. She boiled brown sugar and water to make syrup and then made a stack of pancakes while the bacon crackled in a fry pan. Adam would walk into the kitchen and watch her, then go back out. Finally, she had a stack of various sized pancakes.

"They would be better with butter," Sigrid said as she sat down, "but I haven't yet milked Pansy. I'm sure she's dreading the day I finally decide to."

Adam laughed softly – did she mean she was staying with that comment? He complimented Sigrid on the pancakes. He wasn't usually one for such sweet things, he said, Hoss was, but these tasted particularly good to him and the bacon was crisp. It seemed that since there was so much to be said between them, they remained silent as they ate. Sigrid quickly finished and then took her plate into the kitchen where she readied the dishwater, boiling the water; she knew the hot water would sting her burn and wondered how she would manage to keep that part of her hand out of the water. Such things were an annoyance, like a mosquito that whines in your ear while you're trying to sleep. She heard Adam's chair pushed back, the screech of the wooden legs on the floor, and then his soft footsteps until he stood behind her. Then he approached, placing his plate and coffee cup on the counter.

"You've been avoiding me, Sigrid, and we need to clear up some things. I know tht before I left for Dalby, you said you want to leave and, well, the way I answered you…Sigrid, I shouldn't have said what I did. I didn't mean any of it except that I love you – that I meant. I can get along without you if I have to, but I'd rather not. And it's not so you can milk the cow and feed the chickens and scrub my back …"

Adam turned his head at a heavy knock on the door. Sigrid dried her hands on the dish towel, silently thanking providence for the interruption.

"It must be either Caleb or someone from the mine. No one else would come by this late." She started past Adam and he grabbed her arm.

"It doesn't matter who it is - let them knock. This is more important." The knock resounded; it was almost desperate.

"I need to get it." She shook off Adam's arm. Standing in front of the door, she asked, "Who is it?" She glanced at the rifle still propped against the wall considering if she should pick it up, but she felt Adam standing behind her. He reached for the rifle.

"It's Caleb. Everything all right?" Sigrid swung open the door and Adam, shifting the rifle to his other hand, smiled at seeing his friend, moving to grasp his hand. "I knew nothing could take you down, you stubborn sonovabitch!" Caleb said, grinning widely. Adam grinned as well, welcoming his friend and inviting Caleb to sit.

"Only for a few minutes. I'm sure Maddy has dinner waiting but I had to stop by and see how you were."

Sigrid offered coffee and as she stood pouring out the cup, her knees felt as if they would buckle under. She had a reprieve but only for a while. And Adam had said he loved her. She had a reason now to change her mind, to stay and save face. She washed dishes while Adam and Caleb talked. She could hear them and was glad in her heart that Caleb had stopped by to raise Adam's spirits. They discussed the mine and how Caleb had staked out the silver mine for all to see and know; it was now the Morgan/Cartwright Mine. He had put out a call for more miners who were experienced with silver or other types of shaft mining, unlike the open pit copper mining. And then the two men talked and joked and Sigrid was glad.

Caleb drank one cup of coffee and then, as good as his word, left. Adam wanted to walk him to the door but Caleb told him to sit; he could find his way out he said, laughing. But once Caleb left, Adam slumped on the settee.

"Adam, are you all right?" Sigrid sat down beside him, her brow furrowed with worry. "You're not running a fever again, are you?" She placed a palm on his forehead and he took it off, holding her small hand in his.

"No, I think I did too much today. I could barely keep up my end of the conversation…What's this? How'd you burn yourself?" He brought her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed the spot.

"It's nothing – just burned it on the wash pot." She pulled her hand away. "Perhaps you should sleep now."

His eyes were heavy and he bravely smiled. "Yes, but I don't know that I can pull myself up that ladder. Maybe I best sleep down here."

"Oh - I didn't finish with the blankets. They're still sitting in a wet pile in the washhouse." She pulled herself away from him and paced. "Adam, there's so much to do and I can't seem to do it all."

"Sigrid, give me a few days and I can be of more help. I need to rehang that door. I saw some tools out…"

"No, it's not that – not you. Adam, I don't know how to be a farm wife, a ranch wife or any kind of wife. I've never plucked a chicken so much as killed one and I'm not much of a gardener. At least washing the dishes helped get the grime out of the lines on my hands. And as for being your wife, we weren't even married in the church. Hasn't that ever bothered you?"

"No, why should it? Why should any of that? Sigrid, none of those things are important. Come here, please." He pushed himself up and standing on shaky legs, put out his arms and Sigrid ran to him, wrapping her arms about his chest, laying her head against his heart. Even as ill as he had been, there was still a strength, an assuredness that radiated from him. "Now, I want you to listen to what I say – listen and believe it. You're my wife and I'm your husband. I didn't marry you so you could work yourself to death. I married you because I needed someone to be with me. I don't think people are meant to be alone. I don't think any woman knows how to be a wife any more than a man knows how to be a husband. All I know is to try to curb my tongue and be kind. I think we can be good friends to one another."

She pulled away, her face blank and cold. "Yes. we can be kind to one another. We can be friends. Sit back down and I'll fetch the blanket from the bed for you."

"Sigrid…" He knew she was angry but the woman was frustrating. It seemed he never did the right thing or said the right thing – according to her. Damn her then. There were women in Dalby prowling for husbands – Caleb had joked that there were so many of them that they could each have a wife in Dalby and a wife back home if they chose. But Adam said that one woman was enough for any man – actually, one too many. So, let Sigrid leave. He'd find another woman and her, he wouldn't be such a fool as to marry. Or such a fool as to let her into his heart. After all these years, he had finally learned his lesson.

Sigrid climbed down the laddered stairs, the blanket and pillow tucked under her arm. She spread the blanket on the settee, Adam tried to help but she snapped she didn't need his help – or was he trying to be _friendly_? Adam snorted in response.

"I'm going to bed," Sigrid said. "I've had enough for today. More than enough."

Adam watched her go back up and then, after undressing, he lay down pulling the blanket about him. He saw her valise still sitting where she had dropped it. The woman was impossible. But the worst was that his father would say she was behaving as a typical woman would; there was no understanding the female mind as his father had told him many times when he had complained about a woman.

Sigrid lay in her chemise, the sheet over her. It became chilly at night and she wished she had the blanket and Adam lying next to her. He would hold her and keep her warm. Adam's trail coat was hung over the back of a chair in the corner so she fetched it and put it on top of the sheet over her. It was a poor substitute for the man. But it was heavy and warm - the smell of the soft leather filled her head. It reminded her of horses and saddles and of him.

_His friend_. Adam wanted them to be friends. She had opened her heart to him, bemoaned her shortcomings and he had said they should be nice to each other and be friends. Sigrid didn't need him as a friend – Maddy was her friend. She needed Adam to be her husband. She could bear his snide comments but his leaving her alone for such long times and then expecting her to be waiting for him as a friend would – that was too much. She wasn't his friend – she wanted to be his wife who worried and fretted over him, who lived each day for him – for them. And she fell into a worried sleep.

Sigrid woke, startled. It was beginning to rain, pinging on the window and coming in the open bottom half. She closed the window – part of the mattress was damp – but it had been her dream that had caused her to wake up; she had wanted desperately to escape it. Adam was dying, gasping for his last breath while he gripped her hand in his. A shudder ran through her; was it a premonition or just the result of tending him? She climbed out of bed and crouched on the edge of the loft, looking down. Adam lay on his side, his back pressed flush against the settee back. She couldn't see his face and she watched to see if his chest moved. She couldn't tell. Was he alive or dead? Had today been a mere fluke, his seeming to be better?

She climbed down from the loft and walked toward him, bending down to look at his face. His lips were parted and he seemed to be breathing. She put her hand in front of his mouth but couldn't feel any air. Her pulse stepped up. She couldn't bear it and softly called his name. He snapped awake, sitting up.

"What is it? Sigrid? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just… I wanted to see if you were still alive."

He was baffled. "Why wouldn't I be? Did you poison me at dinner?"

He was his same sarcastic self. "No, but you're making me wish I had." She turned to leave him but he grabbed her wrist. She slapped at his hand but he wouldn't let go.

"Sigrid, I'm sorry but you wake me in the middle of the night and say you want to know if I'm still alive. I could only hope you were waking me up to come to me."

"Let me go." She twisted her wrist but he wouldn't release her.

"Now, c'mon, sweetheart. You checked to see if I was alive but…look closer – you didn't notice something else. I shaved, just in case you had any ideas – well, and my neck itched." He looked sheepish and Sigrid couldn't help but laugh. He pulled her to him and caught her in his arms, pulling her down with him.

"Oh, my wife…I do adore you." He caressed her dark hair while studying her face.

"I am your wife, aren't I? In the eyes of heaven and man, I am, and you're my husband."

"Yes, I'm your husband – like it or not."

"Oh, Adam, sometimes I think I'd be better without you and then, I can't bear the thought of not being with you."

"You probably would be better without me but I wouldn't be. I told you I'd try to be a better husband, sweetheart, and I will. I may need reminding on occasion – maybe a threat to crack my hard head with a fry pan – but I do love you. I do. Believe me"

She threw her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek and then gave him her mouth which he hungrily took. In the morning she would unpack and she would make him a big breakfast, but for now… Adam slipped his hand under her chemise while she shivered in anticipation. They would have many years together – as both friends and lovers living on this land. Sigrid was sure

~ Finis ~


End file.
